


The Traitor's Daughter

by 1birb, Simsplayer



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Attempted Sexual Assault, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Minor Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Miscarriage, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 62,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8297299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1birb/pseuds/1birb, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simsplayer/pseuds/Simsplayer
Summary: Who could make a better disgraced pair than the Traitor's Daughter and the Kingslayer? After the two find themselves forced into an arranged marriage, they must come to terms with what this means for them and how they are to simply survive in King's Landing until they are able to find a safe way out. In the meantime, the two have much to learn about the other.





	1. The Wedding Night

**Author's Note:**

> Based/edited from a thread written by ser-kingslayer and wolfqueennamedstark on tumblr. Being canon divergent, both parties are written as of age.

"So... now what do we do?"

Sansa stood in front of Jamie Lannister, how could _she_ be married to the Kingslayer? The realization was hitting her harder now that they were alone in their quarters, and she now feared that Cersei would kill her in her sleep. She knew that Jaime was the father of Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen. Her father had been right after all and to look at them, it was obvious. Were they _still_ lovers? How long would it be before she was murdered in her sleep or drank from a poisoned goblet?

“Lock the doors,” her whisper was barely audible. She couldn’t get the words Joffrey said out of her head—‘ _I suppose it doesn't matter which Lannister puts the baby in you. Maybe I'll pay you a visit tonight after my uncle passes out_.’ She couldn’t even will herself to look up into his eyes during wedding; in fact, she was now certain she had avoided looking at _anyone_ during the ceremony.

“Lock the doors? Why? Who do you have to fear? You’re a Lannister in King’s Landing now. You’re untouchable,” Jaime sighed, glancing out the window at the city below. It was a clear, dark night and the sky was speckled with stars while the city was aglow from the ever-functioning brothels and taverns that never seemed to close. “And who do I have to fear? Besides you, I mean.” The last words he spoke were of a bitter tone as he looked back at his new wife’s face to see her staring at him with disbelief; and so he rose, crossing the room to lock the door, as Sansa wished.

Sansa could almost laugh—a hysterical laugh. A _Lannister._ She had plenty of reasons to fear being a Lannister, despite what Jaime thought. Her main concern was Joffrey tonight, but there were many other worries as well. At least with the doors locked, they would most likely wake Jaime trying to get in, and Cersei wouldn’t be able to get in either. “Fear me?” He was the best swordsman in King’s Landing. How could he fear her? Now she scoffed, and folded her arms around herself.

“Oh, come on,” Jaime began, stalking back to his seat, sitting down. He poured two cups of wine, offering one to Sansa. Sansa accepted the wine, drinking a generous amount. Lord Tyrion had said she should drink today and she followed his advice.

Jaime, on the other hand, had been drinking all night—a clear indicator that this turn of events had him stressed out, to say the least. “I know you’d love to strangle me in my sleep. Or are you the type to poison? No. No, you’ll always be a Stark, truly. _The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword_. You’d strangle me, I think, or perhaps a knife to the gut?” Jaime raised an eyebrow, contemplating it as he looked at Sansa. He almost felt guilty for what he saying to her, but he was slightly drunk and not thinking clearly. She looked truly beautiful in her golden wedding dress, but he knew that beauty did not automatically make someone any less dangerous. 

Sansa’s eyes widened and she choked on her wine when Jaime mentioned murdering him. She pressed her hand to her mouth to keep the rest of the wine in it. “I’m not a murderer.” No. She was just a _traitor’s_ daughter and sister. Sansa shook her head and set down the wine harder than she intended before moving to the mirror and starting to let her hair down. All this talk of murder and distrust—she found it easier to look away from Jaime right now.

“Would it be murder though? Or self-defense?” Jaime was only being honest as he asked such things, but he was not getting the hint that she no longer wished to discuss the matter. In his mind, she had every right kill any Lannister or Baratheon she wished and it would not be murder, only fair.

Jaime fell silent as he took another sip from his cup, looking over to see Sansa letting her hair down. She still wore her gown from the ceremony and feast, and she did look stunning. Solemn, but stunning. He spoke softer now, but said, “Make it quick if you do. Slice my throat while I’m sleeping. I’d prefer a good, clean death.”

Sansa closed her eyes and sighed, placing her hands on the vanity in front of her. Cersei and Tywin would kill her without a second thought if she laid hands on her _lord husband_. She hadn’t spent all of this time fighting to stay alive to throw it away on harming, let alone killing, Jaime. If she wanted to die, she would have pushed Joffrey off the bridge that day he made look at her father’s head mounted on that terrible spike.

Her head turned just enough to see him. It was an odd thing to feel, she knew, but she didn’t hate him. He hadn’t directly been cruel to her. A heavy silence hung between them as she raised her arms to fight all the intricate braids and pins in her hair. “I don’t want you dead…,” she finally answered.

The conviction in her voice could not be argued with. Perhaps she actually did not want him dead. He could hardly understand it, but strangely enough, it felt nice. One less person who wanted his head and she was a _Stark_  no less. That had to be a small miracle.

Jaime noticed Sansa struggling with some of the pins and braids, especially those in the back, and the constricting dress seemed to make it harder for her. It had been quiet for a few minutes, so the sound of him walking towards her was quite noticeable. He stood behind her, doing his best to help with the pins despite being slightly drunk and lacking a general knowledge in women’s hair. Sansa could see Jaime in the mirror, doing his best to help her in silence, unsure of what he should say to her. 

When he appeared in the mirror, her hands froze while hovering over her hair. His fingers fumbled in her hair, but he was loosening some of the braids. Silently accepting his help, she continued to get the braids undone until all of her hair hung against her back. “Thank you.” Sansa met his eyes in the mirror. They were blood shot from drinking, but still a gorgeous shade of green, granted a bit darker due to the wine.  

Sansa turned to face Jaime, wrapping her arms around her middle. Jaime looked down to notice how Sansa nervously squeezed her hands before wrapping her arms around herself. She knew what was supposed to happen on a wedding night. Slowly her eyes left the floor to meet his.

Jaime didn’t want her to be afraid. Actually, he didn’t want to marry Sansa at all, but both Tywin and Cersei saw it fit for him to try and make amends between the North and the South with such a marriage. There was a bitterness between the three of them now for that decision. Somewhere, in their twisted minds, they thought this marriage would fix what his family had done to Ned, Catelyn, Robb, and his wife. Besides, Joffrey’s affections had strayed towards the new girl from Highgarden, Margaery Tyrell, and who knew how Joffrey would treat Sansa anyways. It had been decided the best move was to pull Ser Jaime from the Kingsguard so he could eventually assume a lordship over Casterly Rock and perhaps be named Warden of the East, as originally planned. The entire change of plans had shamed him though. He lived as a knight and wished to die as a knight.

Now, he looked at the young woman in front of him and both of their eyes held a certain sadness. He was surprised by how sorry he felt for her, how he wished to make her happy, despite this mess. “Go get some sleep.” 

Sansa’s eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded, moving past him to the bed. She knew better than to protest, but it would take a moment to untie her gown. The clasp was easy enough and then it came to all the ties that held it together. She felt that she was on display, but she shrugged off the gown and hung it over the dressing screen. Sansa glanced back to Jaime, wondering if he had been watching her, before sliding into the bed. 

The long day had taken a toll on her. The bed felt much softer than she would have thought. She closed her eyes, sighed, and snuggled into the pillows on her side. “Goodnight,” Sansa opened her eyes to meet Jaime’s before closing them again. She could hear him moving across the room, but was asleep before she knew where he had stopped. 

“Goodnight,” he answered, settling down in a chair near the bed. Jaime helped himself to one last cup of wine to finish off the night, sighing as he drank. He would get in bed with Sansa eventually, but would be sure not to touch or bother her. Jaime was certain that he would not even face her direction to avoid something as small as breathing on her. Despite knowing what was expected of them, he doubted it would ever come to _that_. She had every right to despise him for the rest of their lives if she wished and he would not protest it. In fact, he planned to encourage her to take a lover so that she would not have to spend the rest of her married life miserable and wed to the disgraced Kingslayer.

Yet, as he watched her rest, he felt the tiniest bit of hope for them. That maybe, they could be happy one day. Shaking his head, he tried to erase that notion from his mind and simply drank more wine.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Sansa have much to think about the morning after their arranged marriage and a plan must be made.

Sansa slept soundly that night, but that was probably due to the fact her wedding day had exhausted her; otherwise, her thoughts and anxieties would have surely kept her awake. Even Jaime sliding into the bed didn’t disturb her sleep.

When she finally woke up, he was lying on his back with an arm behind his head and roughly one foot of space between him and her. The sunlight came in through the windows, almost blinding Sansa as she quietly slipped out of bed and put on her dressing gown. Figuring Jaime would be asleep for a while longer, Sansa started brushing out her hair and getting ready for the day. 

He seemed peaceful when he slept. The brooding lines from last night had smoothed out as well as the obvious tension in his shoulders. In sleep, he was free from stress and looked like the happier Jaime who she had sometimes seen laughing with Tommen or picking up Myrcella to spin her around.

As one of the most talented and dangerous knights in Westeros, Jaime was sure to notice someone walking about his quarters—even if he was asleep. The soft click of Sansa picking up her brush from the table caused him to stir, and the sun in his eyes made him whine softly at the sudden brightness. Jaime rubbed at his eyes sleepily as he stretched his legs a little. Waking slowly, he noticed Sansa standing in front of a mirror brushing her hair. He could not help but notice how the sunlight completely changed her hair color to a more vibrant red. Truly, it was beautiful in or out of the light.

“Good morning,” Jaime muttered, sitting up. He felt a bit queasy thanks to all the wine he had the night before, and he could only imagine how disheveled he looked. Reaching up, Jaime attempted to smooth his hair a little. 

“Oh,” Sansa turned to see Jaime sitting up in bed. “Good morning. I didn’t mean to wake you.” She held the brush delicately to her chest as if she was still trying to keep quiet. Seeing Jaime disheveled and still sleepy was endearing. In this state, he wasn’t scary like she thought he was last night. If anything, he looked younger and more childish. 

“How are you feeling?” She had noticed that the wine flagon was mostly drained from where she’d left Jaime last night. Even she was a bit drained from the wine she had drunk during the feast; she could only imagine how Jaime felt.

Running his fingers through his hair again, Jaime yawned sleepily, then opened his eyes fully. He looked past his hair at Sansa, rolling onto his stomach to get a better view of her and to try settling the way his stomach felt. “I’ve felt better,” Jaime paused for a moment, closing his eyes before continuing, “I do regret drinking so much.” 

He eyed Sansa now though and watched how she held the brush close to her chest. Jaime seemed to visibly deflate at the thought of her holding the brush to possibly use it to defend herself against _him_. It made him hope she wasn’t afraid, that she didn’t fear _him_. “How about you? How do you feel?”

“Drained,” Sansa answered honestly. “I think I regret drinking so much wine myself.” It wasn’t nearly the quantity that Jaime had, but it had been more than she ever drank; even during the Battle of the Blackwater when Cersei insisted that she drink, Sansa had not drank that much.

“I definitely drank too much,” Jaime responded, and in fact, he could not recall the last time he drank that much _ever_. Probably on the eve of some terrible battle, which was saying something.

She set down the brush and clasped her hands together. Sansa wasn’t sure how to act around Jaime. He seemed gentle, but he was a _Lannister_ —Cersei’s twin to be exact. Maybe she didn’t fear Jaime, but she feared Cersei a great deal. 

Sansa ran her fingers through her hair and brought a section over her shoulder to play with. There were still some tangles, but they could wait. “Do you want anything to help you feel better?” That’s what a wife was supposed to do right? Make sure her husband was comfortable even if he had done it to himself. 

He watched Sansa set the brush aside to instead alternate between clasping her hands and toying with her hair. Jaime had to admit, he was surprised when she asked if she could get something for him, and yet, he felt guilty requesting anything of her. Sansa looked at him rather expectantly though. “Perhaps some water,” Jaime said meekly—too meek for the _Lion of Lannister_ , before adding, “Thank you.”

Sansa nodded, padding across the room to the pitcher and pouring him a glass. “You’re welcome.” She handed him the glass and sat on the edge of bed.

“Thank you,” he repeated, before sipping at the water. A knock came from the door and Sansa flinched. If Jaime had been standing, she would have hidden behind him. As quickly as she reacted, Sansa recovered to get up and open the door, peaking her head around to see who it was. 

The tension in Sansa’s shoulders dissipated when she saw Shae holding a platter of food. The handmaiden glanced at Sansa, seeing the fear that had flickered in her eyes and glared at Jaime instantly, who was obviously still in bed. Even as she evaluated the situation, Shae placed the platter on the table and took her leave, finding that Sansa was not in immediate danger.

Jaime watched as Shae placed the platter of food down and quietly stalked out of the room after taking in the scene before her. He wanted to scream out to her that he didn’t do it—that he didn’t bed Sansa as everyone had expected him to, but he had hoped Sansa would tell Shae that later. In the meantime, if looks could kill, Jaime would have been dead right then and there.

“Well,” Jaime began, taking another quick sip of water before continuing, “If you won’t cut my throat while I sleep, _she_  surely will. Or is she the type to use poison? Perhaps the meal she brought just now? I think my days are quite numbered. Maybe you will be a widow yet!” Jaime may have laughed bitterly as he said all of this, but the truth was, Shae’s look had unsettled and upset him. 

Sansa’s shoulders slumped at his expression, “Jaime…” She looked back at the door where Shae had disappeared. “She’s protective.” What was she supposed to say? Instead of finding the proper words, she stood there wringing her hands as she often did when nervous. Tentatively she took a step towards him, slowly closing the gap until she stood in front of the bed. “Being married to you…it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, and I’m not going to pretend it is, but…” She trailed off for a moment and stared at her hands, biting her lip. Jaime may not have been scary, but speaking her own mind for the first time was. Sansa continued, “…but you may be the last person in King’s Landing who I can, um, trust. The last person who will be honest with me.”  

Sansa couldn’t meet his eyes for a long silent moment so she closed her eyes, waiting for a response.  

Truly, Jaime could not figure out what was _wrong_  with him. She was a Stark through and through, and yet he actually felt guilty over making her so afraid and nervous, causing her to wring her hands. If she wanted honesty, then she would continue to have it, and he would keep any of her secrets, if she chose to share anything of the sort with _him_.

Jaime sat up in bed finally and looked up into her eyes, scooting close to where she stood now. “Listen. I am sorry for what was done to your father and your brother—I truly am. They were good, honorable men. I am sorry for what’s happened to your mother. She was one of the greatest women I ever knew, despite all that has happened. I also realize there was pledge made to your family that you would be returned North.” As Jaime spoke, it was full of sincerity and he was clearly sober now. He still did not look his best, but he looked like _him_ now at the very least. 

“Your family is gone now.” Jaime hated how she flinched when he reached up to take one of her hands in his own, trying to prove just _how_  sincere he was, “And despite what anyone tells you, the North is no longer safe for you.”  

Sansa hadn’t meant to flinch away, but she’d been hit so many times it was hard not to. His hand was soft in a way, even with the calluses that had come from his sword. “Unless you’re going to make King’s Landing safer…,” She finally raised her eyes to his. “You know I’m a Stark. I can see it in the way you look at me. How everyone looks at me. I’ll never be safe anywhere…” The realization made her want to weep.

How stupid she had been. All she wanted her whole life before moving to King’s Landing was to be in King’s Landing. Now that she was finally here, she was alone among vipers, spiders, and lions. How was she supposed to survive? Maybe playing the good little wife to Jaime would keep her alive for now, just as she’d played the good little dove for Cersei when she had to. On the other hand, maybe she would take Cersei’s idea and throw herself from the highest tower in the Red Keep. 

She blinked back the tears and stared at her hand in Jaime’s. It was so small. Smaller than she thought it should be. Why did she have to be so delicate? Why couldn’t she be like Arya? 

“No. No, you’ll never be safe in King’s Landing,” Jaime admitted as he turned her hand in his, looking at it as if he was contemplating something of deep importance. Her hand was so small in his own, and he now saw why Cersei had been quick to call her “little dove” or why Sandor had named her “little bird.”

Jaime was no fool though. He knew that this was merely a body and just that. There was more to her, or else she would not have lasted this long. “And King’s Landing—no, I cannot make King’s Landing safer either. But I think you knew all of these things,” Jaime concluded as he looked up into her eyes again, her eyes that looked so sad. Jaime could have sworn they seemed to darken when she was sad.

There was a silence between them for about a minute before Jaime asked, “Is there anywhere safe for you though? Anywhere you could go? Honestly, I would hate to see you live out your remaining days as a _caged_  little bird.”

Sansa thought hard for a minute. Her aunt was in the Vale… No, Littlefinger was to marry her and Littlefinger got her father killed. It would not be safe there. Riverrun was currently held by the Lannisters and her uncle, Edmure, was locked in the Frey cells. Winterfell had been burned to the ground, she had heard, because of Theon, and now the Boltons held it.

“No,” her voice gave away her sorrow. She cleared it before speaking again, “No. I have nowhere to go.” The only family left that she knew of was Jon, but he was at the Wall and they did not accept women there.

“It seems my life has already been decided for me,” Sansa said as she laid her other hand on Jaime’s. As much as she didn’t want this marriage, it was all she had. She swallowed, contemplating whether she should speak it—openly admit it to him. “You are all I have…” Her voice was so quiet that she wondered if she had spoken at all. 

It broke Jaime’s heart to see her look so genuinely defeated. This was not the answer he wished to hear. There had been times when he had rooted against the interests of his family, and this was one of them. 

In truth, she was still heir to Winterfell if Rickon and Bran had truly died at the hands of Theon. It was why Tywin insisted she wed a Lannister. That’s when it hit Jaime— _Tywin had wanted Sansa to marry a Lannister in order to procure Winterfell_. They could use this. “Wait!” He held her hand tightly and laced their fingers together to give her hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re heir to Winterfell. Winterfell is where you should be. Winterfell could be safe. But you’re absolutely right—I think I may be all that you have right now.”

Sansa’s stomach clenched when his fingers laced with her own, gently squeezing them. She blinked at him, not needing to say how much she missed home. She missed the cold, and the summer snows; the godswood with an actual weirwood raining red leaves down on the pond. Even though horseback riding wasn’t her favorite, she missed her leisurely ride through the wolfswood with her mother. She missed Winterfell as much as she missed Lady. 

A small, emotional smile spread across Sansa’s face as she squeezed his hand back. It was odd sharing this with him, but for the first time in a very long time, Sansa didn’t quite feel so alone in King’s Landing. “I just have to keep Shae from killing you…” It was meant to be a joke and hopefully Jaime understood that. “It won’t be hard,” she reassured just in case he took it the wrong way. 

“If you can manage to keep Shae from killing me, I can see about taking some Lannister soldiers to Winterfell—you and me.” Jaime looked up at Sansa, knowing how insane the plan sounded, but he wished to see her smile again—a true smile. She’d been miserable since they killed her father and rightfully so; no girl should ever have to see their father butchered in front of her, and so close at that. If Jaime could make this one thing right and keep this one oath to return Sansa safe to Winterfell perhaps they would _both_ be in a better place.

But it was an enormous _if_. They both knew it. Tywin wasn’t exactly generous, even if he had enough soldiers to spare a few towards Jaime’s endeavor. What was Winterfell to Tywin? Wasn’t it enough to simply have the heir to Winterfell under his paw? Yet, it felt good to have hope, especially right after a wedding that had felt so terrible at first.  

Sansa’s lip trembled, betraying the emotions that were welling up inside of her chest. Her mind was racing with thoughts too; he, _Jaime_ , was willing to take her home to Winterfell. Lannister soldiers would help her secure it, kicking out the Boltons. She already knew that they were ruining the North.

“Until then...” Sansa started. She knew that this was something that would take time. It’s not like they could pack up and leave tomorrow, as much as she wanted that. “What do we do?” Sansa knew that Tywin would be waiting for a child, that a child would give her more leverage in regards to Tywin’s favor, but how would they combat that? Currently, the Lannisters and the Boltons were at an uneasy peace, although the Boltons held the North. Most Northerners despised the Boltons though, and both Jaime and Tywin knew they were more likely to follow a Stark. Sansa was crucial to the North, and so perhaps Tywin would grant Jaime his soldiers after all, even without a child.

“What do you mean?” Jaime looked puzzled and let his hand fall from hers. He continued to look at Sansa from where he sat on the edge of the bed. If, and it was a big if, Tywin granted him Lannister soldiers to march north with, he assumed life would go on as normal. Perhaps his father would move Sansa and himself to Casterly Rock, or they would stay in King’s Landing in order to be watched closely. Regardless, Jaime assumed he would spend the next few months watching his back _and_  what he consumed. 

When Jaime’s fingers fell from Sansa’s suddenly, she felt alone again. She swallowed as she tried to explain, “ _If_ your father does allow you those men, it’s not going to be tomorrow.” She didn’t even know what they were.  _Husband and wife._ That much was obvious, but there was much more to the situation. “Y-your family…” Sansa brought her hands together, smoothing her skin with her thumb. “They expect certain things…and we can’t hide in here forever, unfortunately.” 

In here, they could be Sansa and Jaime. Out there, they were the disgraced daughter—the _traitor’s_ daughter with traitor’s blood, and the Kingslayer. She wanted to know what to expect from him. She wanted guidance. As soon as they left this room, would they part ways? Act like the marriage was nothing? Or would they be together acting as a more typical married couple? “What do you expect of me?” She frowned, not liking how this was going.

“What do I expect of you?” Jaime looked up at Sansa, narrowing his eyes. He wondered why she had even asked, the answer was obvious. She was a Stark in a city, no, a _kingdom,_  that belonged to the Lannisters. “What kind of question is that? You’re a smart girl, I think you know.” He sighed and looked away after he said that. Surely, she knew what he meant and he suddenly appeared ashamed. If he was to be honest with himself, he also feared her answer. “And you’re right,” Jaime tried to fill the silence, “We can’t hide in here forever, unfortunately.”

Sansa’s mouth opened to respond, but closed it slowly. She looked at her feet, hands nervously wringing. If he truly meant what she thought…her stomach churned. “I just wanted to k-know…” Sansa cursed herself for being so anxious. It made her voice quiet and shaky. If she hadn’t already started talking then she would have just left it. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. She didn’t want to shake in front of him, but it felt like her whole body was trembling. “It’s a wife’s duty and I am your wife after all…” There was a clear shift in her voice that forced Jaime to look up at Sansa again.

She couldn’t open her eyes to look at him. Maybe he had left her alone last night because he was drunk. Maybe she had made a mistake in trusting him. He was a _Lannister_. How could Sansa ever trust a Lannister? She stood silently in front of him, clenching her hands together, waiting for him to speak. 

From her expression, the way she wrung her hands, and—gods, how she trembled, it was becoming painfully obvious what Sansa thought Jaime meant. “Oh! Oh, no.” Jaime was quick to reach for her hands again, trying desperately to get her to look at him once more. He prayed he hadn’t lost her trust so quickly. “Sansa. That— _that_ , isn’t what I meant!” He swallowed hard, searching her eyes with his own.

“What I meant was…well, Cersei.” Right then, saying her name, Jaime suddenly looked embarrassed as he had just moments ago. He had been embarrassed about Cersei, about the whole situation really, and the rumors that were all true. “She’ll want you dead, Sansa. Like I said, you’re smart. You know why.” Jaime swallowed the lump in his throat, but still found the courage to look at Sansa. “I meant that you should stay by my side in public, that’s it. If you want to stay alive, you’d be wise to do so, because, gods, she’ll want you dead. Cersei and Tywin may have married me to you, but even if she cannot kill you right away, she will do anything to make your life miserable.”

Sansa inhaled sharply as he grasped her hands again. She almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing that she wasn’t focused on keeping her emotions in check. Tears of relief welled up in her eyes. She tried to blink them back as her voice cracked, “Jaime…” There was so much she wanted to say to him, but none of it would form coherent words. For now all she could say was, “Thank you…” Ever since the Hound left, Sansa had been walking around King’s Landing without a protector. It became painfully obvious how much she needed protection after he left. Now Jaime was sitting there telling her not to leave his side. 

She lifted her watery blue eyes to his emerald green ones, nodding her head since she couldn’t trust her voice to be helpful. Sansa sniffed, taking one hand out from Jaime’s to wipe the tears that had started to spill over from her face. However, the tears wouldn’t stop as much as she tried. She tried to laugh at herself, but it came out as half a sob, “I’m sorry.” She looked at him as she tried to calm herself, “I feel foolish.”  

Finally rising from the bed, Jaime stood to pull Sansa into his arms as she laughed and cried, overcome with emotion. He held her close, smiling a little; he was simply pleased she still trusted him after that miscommunication. Even he was unsure if he would have trusted him so soon after that had he been in Sansa’s place. “No need to apologize. But I’ll keep you alive—I swear it, Sansa. If it comes down to your life or mine, I will keep you alive, but you must work with me.” He wanted to swear that he would see her back to Winterfell too, and that he would see to it that she would be given the opportunity to live a happy, long life there, but it was best to not make _too_  many promises in one day. Besides, it would be a long process to even get to Winterfell _and_  force the Boltons out once they were there.

Instead of making more promises, Jaime held her now, suddenly feeling sorry that he probably reeked of alcohol from the night before. He reached up with one hand, about to place it on the crown of her head to touch her hair, but decided against it. He did not wish to startle her or anything, and so he gently assured, “I’ll keep you safe.”

Sansa closed her eyes as his arms wrapped around her, tucking her head under his chin and delicately holding onto the front of his shirt. She nodded to his words so that he knew she was still listening. How long had it been since someone held her? How long since someone saw her tears and decided that they needed to stop? She held onto him, like he was her last lifeline while listening to his heartbeat. It was slowing down to a relaxed rhythm, soothing her as much as his arms did. Her breaths slowed and the tears trickled to a stop, but she didn’t move to escape his hold.

There, in their chambers, it was safe; she knew that now. Sansa would do anything she could to help make Jaime’s promise easier. The possibility of Winterfell was a long way off if Jaime ever did manage to get the men from his father, but at least now she knew she wasn’t alone. Cersei and Joffrey would have a harder time making her life miserable if she stayed next to Jaime. A Stark under the protection of a Lannister. It was absurd when you thought of their sigils—a lion protecting a young wolf. 

As he felt her relax in his arms, Jaime smiled and held her a little tighter. He was brave enough to rest his head atop of hers now, relieved that she had stopped crying and felt as though she could trust him. In all honesty, the moment Tywin and Cersei made no move to retrieve him from Robb Stark’s hold was the moment he began to walk away from what the Lannister name entailed. Tywin and Cersei going behind his back and planning his forced dismissal from the Kingsguard to marry Sansa only made matters worse. He would do what he could to defy them now. 

“Sansa,” Jaime finally spoke softly, “Don’t forget to smile in front of King Joffrey and the Queen. Nothing would displease them more.” At that, Jaime smirked himself, satisfied with their tentative plan.

A soft laugh shook her shoulders, “Yes. I will remember to do that.” Sansa moved her arms from the front of his chest to wrap around his middle and up his back, clinging to him. She was finally calm. The emotions that had over taken her had found their way out and left Sansa almost lighter. They’d been trapped inside her for so long that they’d become as heavy as rocks.

Sansa didn’t want to let go of Jaime either. She wanted to stay there in his arms, where it was safe, until she was home. However, as she said earlier they could not hide in their room forever. Also how would they execute their plan if they stayed there? “Court will expect us soon enough.”

“You’re right,” Jaime said simply, stepping back reluctantly. The embrace between the pair had been very nice, but he knew Sansa was right and that they would have to leave the room soon—they were being expected. He placed his hands on Sansa’s shoulders, leaning down to allow their eyes to meet.

“So, are you ready to go out there?” Jaime gave her a reassuring smile, smirking slyly.


	3. A Turn of Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Sansa have a tense meeting with Joffrey and the Queen the morning after their wedding, then meet alone.

Jaime was both afraid of what they would have to face, and how Sansa especially, would react to the comments and stares of those around her. It wouldn’t be easy. As promised, he would do his damnedest to protect them both. Until then, both he and Sansa needed to get dressed.

Sansa almost whined when Jaime pulled away, but she held herself back. “I’m ready as I’m ever going to be.” If she had a choice, she’d stay in their room and hide forever. Just like she wanted to do every day before their marriage. Sansa reasoned that if she didn’t have to leave her room, then she wouldn’t have to marry the Kingslayer, but as it turns out, things didn’t work that way. She returned his smile though, enjoying how his smirk tugged at his cheekbones when he truly meant it.

When the pair parted to get dressed and freshened up for the day, Sansa poked her head out into the hall looking for Shae. Of course, she was standing only a few feet away from the door. With a single motion, Sansa beckoned her in then shut the door behind them. Shae glared at Jaime, but Sansa put a hand on her wrist shaking her head before pulling her behind the dressing screen for more privacy. 

Shae opened her mouth to protest, but Sansa explained the situation in quiet murmurs as she helped her dress. “You can still glare at him all you want, if you’d like. If anything, it’ll help us out in public. Just don’t kill him.” 

At this unexpected turn of events, Shae made a face. She was willing to kill Jaime in a heartbeat if she had to—she had promised Sansa this before the wedding. Shae did not like to see women hurt at the hands of men and would not let even the best swordsman in Westeros lay a finger on her lady; he would die first. “Please,” Sansa insisted, seeing the doubt on Shae’s face. Frowning, the handmaiden let out a sigh and nodded in reluctant agreement. Sansa gave her a quick hug before finishing putting on her gown. Clearly, Jaime was not as terrible as Shae had expected he would be.

Jaime could not hear the conversation between Shae and Sansa, but he readied nonetheless. Once he was dressed, he stepped outside their quarters to wait for his wife. He wore his favored red leather jacket with brown trousers, sword and belt at his waist. The look suited him quite well and accentuated his blonde hair—it was one of his outfits that made him look like a true Lannister.

When Sansa came from the room, he gave her a smile. She always looked beautiful, he must admit. If the gods decided he had to marry, at least it was Sansa. She would not be unpleasant to wake up to each day until he could help her find a better-suited match. “You look lovely,” he said, offering his arm to Sansa. Jaime was unsure what Shae and Sansa spoke of, but Shae still glowered at him from behind Sansa. 

Sansa looked down at her grey dress, smoothing out some of the wrinkles in the purple scarf under the lining of the dress, “Thank you.” She looked Jaime over, wearing everything that screamed _Lannister,_ but he looked handsome in it. Oddly, she thought this was how her betrothal to Joffrey should have went; this was how she pictured the day after their wedding night. 

She returned Jaime’s smile and took his arm, giving it a small squeeze as she ignored the glare Shae still gave Jaime. At least Sansa felt confident Shae wouldn’t slit his throat in the middle of the night.

Together, they walked through the corridors to the throne room. Each step brought them closer to Joffrey and the Queen. Sansa swallowed hard, but kept her steps even and steady. Jaime would protect her; he had promised.

While Jaime’s attire looked every bit Lannister, Sansa still dressed the part of _Stark_. Her grey dress with the rich purple accents that almost looked lavender seemed to scream, ‘ _I am a Stark of Winterfell, and I will **never** be a Lannister._ ’ Jaime wondered what Cersei would make of her wearing it the morning after their wedding night. Would it please her to see this? Or would it only fuel her temper? The dress differed greatly from the golden wedding gown Sansa wore the night before to their ceremony.

He swallowed a lump in his throat as they entered the throne room. It could have been his imagination, but everyone seemed to grow silent as they entered, arm in arm. Sighing deeply to calm his nerves, Jaime stepped to the foot of the throne bowing his head for both Joffrey and the Queen before looking up at them again. Sansa curtsied with her eyes to the floor as always on her best behavior. “Good morning, nephew, Cersei,” Jaime said as he smiled pleasantly, even as Cersei judged them with cruel, cold eyes. She knew better than to believe Jaime’s smile and her own mouth remained expressionless as she stayed silent.

“You’ve awoken late, uncle,” Joffrey began, his face the reflection of sick amusement as he rose from the throne.

Jaime simply nodded once and allowed his smile to remain, “It was a late night, your grace.” He conveniently left out the part where he sat up for most the night drinking too much wine before retiring to bed where his new wife already slept. 

For some reason, this seemed to amuse Joffrey more. Although Jaime spoke with ambiguity, Joffrey appeared to fill in the details using his own imagination and grinned, “And you, Lady Sansa? Did you find my Uncle Jaime’s company to be all you hoped and dreamed for?” Joffrey had meant the question as a slight, but Cersei did not appear amused.

Sansa watched Jaime as he spoke, remembering to keep a faint smile on her face. However, it became difficult when she saw Cersei’s cold gaze— _colder than ice,_ she thought. She let out a shaky breath before addressing Joffrey. 

“Yes, Your Grace.” She glanced at Jaime again before meeting Joffrey’s eyes. His amusement at the thought of their wedding night made her ill. “His company was more than I could have ever wished for.” She was being honest, but not in the way Joffrey’s imagination had intended. She smiled widely before looking at Jaime, as if she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.

Sansa pointedly ignored Cersei’s gaze that seemed to darken with Sansa’s words. Silently, she thanked the gods that Jaime was between them. If they had been alone, the Queen would have certainly strangled Sansa herself. Her fingers tightened ever so slightly on Jaime’s sleeve. 

As Joffrey stepped closer, Jaime could feel Sansa holding onto his arm tighter. Jaime stood up a little straighter, looking down at Joffrey, who stood a half-foot shorter than he. Joffrey talked quieter as he approached the pair, “Oh, good! Should we be expecting a Lannister child in the near future then?” 

When Jaime bluntly answered, “With any luck,” Joffrey’s look of disappointment sickened him. Joffrey had wanted to be the one to father Sansa’s firstborn and he made no effort in hiding it. Jaime placed his left hand on top of Sansa’s reassuringly. As long as he was able, he would never let Joffrey come near her alone. “Will that be all, your grace?” Sansa held her breath while Jaime talked to Joffrey, effectively ending the conversation about Lannister babies. Jaime’s hand on hers let her breath again. 

Joffrey simply stared when Jaime asked that; perhaps he could hear the bite in Jaime’s tone. Walking back to take his seat on the iron throne, Joffrey waved his hand. “Yes, yes, be on your way.” Sansa’s fingers relaxed as Joffrey moved away, putting more and more space between them. Jaime was more than ready to leave the throne room and Sansa had started to turn when Joffrey cut in, “Oh! And Sansa? You would be wise to remember what happens to traitors here.” 

Sansa froze at his words and her mind flooded with images of her father’s body crumbling to the ground. Again, her grip tightened around Jaime’s hand before she looked up at Joffrey. “Yes… Your Grace. I remember very well what happens to traitors, as I am a traitor’s daughter.” The words were thick on her tongue even as bile rose in her throat. Joffrey and Cersei looked pleased with themselves in successfully wiping the smile off her face. 

She wished that she could run from the courtroom, back to her chambers, and lock herself in. Instead, she bowed her head to the King and turned away with Jaime to leave. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from her eyes. Her father was no traitor. The bastard king who sat on that vile throne was the traitor to his country. 

Jaime glanced over at Sansa as they calmly walked out of the throne room. He hoped the visit was enough to sate Cersei and Joffrey’s curiosity for a while and that they would only have to make appearances at meals mostly. Who knew what other terrible things Joffrey could come up with to say to Sansa? 

Once they were safe from the eyes of the court, Jaime took an abrupt turn with Sansa on his arm, towards the gardens outside. Although it was bright out, the sky threatened rain. He sat down on the edge of a fountain, turning slightly so he could face Sansa after she sat too.

Sansa wasn’t expecting the turn to the garden so it took her a moment to catch up. She’d been so focused on heading back to her room and keeping herself in check. However, she was thankful for the open space. She didn’t feel quite so closed in and trapped. She sat close to Jaime, her arm brushing the side of his. 

Jaime was relieved to see that Shae had followed and stood nearby, looking around the gardens. Surely, she was making sure they were not being followed, but Jaime hoped that she could hear what they were saying. Perhaps then she could see that he meant Sansa no true harm. “Are you alright?” Jaime asked quietly, his eyes full of concern.

“I’m okay. Everything is okay. I-I’m used to it,” Sansa answered, avoiding Jaime’s eyes. That probably wasn’t the kind of answer that Jaime wanted, but it was the only one she had. She seemed to stare straight through their joined hands and into some different dimension. It was as if she was there in front of him, but also standing on the steps of the Sept, watching her father’s body fall again and again. 

She hated Joffrey. She hated the Queen. She hated the Hand of the King. She hated almost all of Jaime’s family, so she should hate him too, right? But she didn’t. She _couldn’t_ , especially when he looked at her with those kind, protective, and full of concern green eyes. Why had they married her to such a man if they thought of her as a traitor’s daughter and nothing more? 

“But you’re not used to it.” Jaime watched Sansa closely, not breaking eye contact. “I know you’re not. I see it now, and I _know_. I know because I’m the Kingslayer, never Jaime. They call me the Lion of Lannister, or Jaime, to my face, but always _Kingslayer_  behind my back, and it never gets any easier. If anything, it gets harder.” He wanted to mention how many lives he saved, and how people had forgotten what he did, but he didn’t. What would be the point? She wasn’t there when it happened. Who would believe him? He looked away, shamed. 

This was it though. This was why Tywin Lannister did not mind marrying Jaime to the traitor’s daughter. It only made sense to wed the Kingslayer to the traitor’s daughter—together, they were two traitors. They deserved each other in Tywin’s eyes. It made sense.

“I am sorry Joffrey killed your father. I am sorry he reminds you of it every chance he gets. I am sorry you are trapped here, even temporarily. And I am most sorry you were forced to wed the Kingslayer.” Jaime looked up at her again, his eyes full of a bitter sadness. He did not mention his plans to help her find a better match once Winterfell was taken back, but it went without saying. 

Jaime’s words seemed to bring Sansa out of her trance. Somehow, she’d forgotten that everyone saw him as the _Kingslayer_. She listened to him, seeing that he was sharing his own pain with her—baring his soul to her. She frowned, not on her behalf, but his.

It made sense that Sansa was hated because the Lannisters saw her family as a threat. Maybe that’s why they kept her on such a tight leash. She’d caused their deaths so why not do the same now? Maybe _that_ is what they thought and why they constantly reminded her of her “traitor’s blood.”

“Your name is Jaime…,” Sansa whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Her lips trembled as she spoke again, “And my name is Sansa…” It was a small act of defiance. It was also a way to try and comfort him. They were both tied brought together by one cruelty or another.

Jaime could not help but smile when he heard Sansa say his name. He wasn’t a fool though, and he assumed that she would be amongst the others that would call him Kingslayer behind his back. A naïve part of him really hoped she didn’t though. As Brienne had told him before, Sansa Stark was his last chance at honor—although he was fairly certain that when Brienne had said that, she didn’t imagine they’d be married. What _would_  Brienne make of this? What would she think?

An odd sense of hope filled Sansa and it puzzled her. She was sure that after her brother and mother’s death, her hope was as dead as they were, but there it was. Maybe since Jaime and Sansa had been brought together in such a horrible way, something good was meant to grow out of it? Sansa had to mentally shake the thought from her head. Those silly dreams had gotten her in this predicament in the first place.

Sansa squeezed his hand, “We shouldn’t sulk.” She tried to smile, but was sure it was contorted on her face. “We’re newlyweds so, I think we deserve a bit of fun.” What kind of fun? Sansa wasn’t sure, but she wanted to make Jaime smile again. “Lord Tyrion would suggest drinking,” she teased, knowing both of them had too much the day before.

Sansa was right, they did deserve a bit of fun. “I think I’m going to pass on drinking for today, but anything else? What do you like to do for fun, Lady Sansa?” Jaime smiled a little now, and it was a genuine smile at least. He smiled at the fact he didn’t know what Sansa liked to do, and yet they were married. How odd it seemed that he didn’t know this, and they were expected to share a bed. _No matter_ , he thought, _I will learn_.

Sansa frowned, wondering what she liked to do. How _did_ she occupy her time? “I’m not sure. I’ve always just spent time in the garden walking, spent a lot of time at the godswood, and sewed.” The rest of her time she was constantly being called for by either Joffery or Cersei for some sort of abuse. Sansa wished she knew what more she could do. Maybe Jaime would be able to open up more options for her now.

“What about you? What do you like to do, _Lord_ Jaime?” She enjoyed the little banter they had with their titles. Jaime had so many experiences Sansa hadn’t—well, ever wanted to have. Arya would have liked having Jaime’s company. They could go horseback riding and look at swords. Arya had always wanted a sword of her own. As much as her little sister often frustrated her, she missed her dearly. 

But what did she know about Jaime? Other than all the bad things: lover to his sister, Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, and a man without honor. She thought harder. He was one of the best swordsmen in King’s Landing. He loved his little brother, Tyrion. He loved his nieces and nephews…or his children, actually. He didn’t fight unfairly, not like the Mountain during the Hand Tourney. He was kind to her. Witty too, but that wasn’t very much knowledge considering they were married now.

“Well,” Jaime began, looking down at his hands, “I can’t say I know much about gardens or sewing, and I surely don’t know much about the godswood, but I do like to fight, and I used to fish quite a bit with my father, so I would say I’m fairly good at it. I think I would enjoy reading if I didn’t struggle with it—you see, the words, when I try to read, sometimes they kind of—never mind.” He didn’t want to bother Sansa with the details, and so he quieted himself about the subject. What did she care about his struggle with reading and writing? Why would she care about how Tywin would physically punish him for his dyslexia when he was just a boy? What did it matter to her? “Horseback riding. Do you enjoy riding or racing?”

Jaime spoke sincerely as they sat together in the gardens. He hoped they could at least find something they enjoyed doing together, seeing as they would be spending a lot of time in the other’s company. 

“I’ve never been one for riding…” Sansa started, but she didn’t want to disappoint Jaime, “However, I’ve never been riding without going somewhere and it being completely necessary. I’m not very good at it I’m afraid.” Arya had spent her extra time learning how to ride well. Sansa had made fun of her sister for doing so. 

“Maybe,” Sansa swallowed before continuing, “You could teach me?” She’d noticed how he had dismissed his struggle with reading. Perhaps if she offered a weakness of hers, she could offer help or encourage him with his reading later. Perhaps she could read the books that Tyrion got them as wedding presents aloud to get him interested. Tyrion had given both of them, well, more so to Sansa, some interesting books that she was looking forward to reading. She had forgotten that she enjoyed reading, even if she didn’t have a lot of time to do it.

His eyes widened a little when she suggested teaching her to ride though, and he nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course! Whenever you’d like.” Jaime hoped he didn’t sound _too_  eager, but he was thrilled she was willing to give it a try. He’d been looking for an excuse to take his horse out again.

In fact, the optimist in Jaime could not help but picture the two of them eventually racing horses along the Bay shore. Immediately, he felt stupid for picturing it. “I’m not an expert on horses, but I think I know just the one that could carry us both. At least until you have the hang of it,” Jaime said, pausing before he continued, “Well, even if you haven’t gotten the hang of it, maybe we could make a day of it anyways. Ride along the shore, share a meal at the beach?” Jaime’s voice was full of excitement as he spoke, but he had to admit, the plans made him a little sad too.

He realized that it had been _years_  since he’d done anything like this with someone. He’d spent so much time fighting, serving in the Kingsguard, and following Cersei around out of concern that he hadn’t been to the Bay to just _enjoy_  it as he used to. 

“There’s no time like the present, and I think compared to my knowledge of horses, you are an expert.” Sansa couldn’t help but smile seeing Jaime so excited. His eyes seemed greener, if that was at all possible. Seeing Jaime happy with just the thought of riding and teaching her was so infectious that it excited her as well. It was like fulfilling a dream of hers in some ways—someone to share the excitement of simple things with. Someone to share every day life with without it being boring. She may have dreamed of a prince, but ultimately, _that_ was what she wanted. 

Sansa quickly added, “And I’d love a day at the beach. I’ve never even seen it. Only heard about it. Seeing the sea is something I’ve always wanted to do.” A picnic. Out by the sea. She could get out of the Red Keep. Sansa could relax. Would Jaime think less of her if she wanted to play in the water? Sansa was the definition of a lady, never with a hair out of place, but she longed to play in the water like how the Dornish are said to do in their water gardens. There was no place to swim in the North. No place to take off her shoes and stick her toes in the water, for it was far too cold even in the summer. Sansa was looking forward to this very much.


	4. Blackwater Bay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Sansa make their first trip to the beach together, the day after their wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! Chapters should be posted more and more as break approaches. Enjoy! :)

Jaime was quick about calling for a horse that was strong enough to carry them both and asking the kitchens to prepare Sansa and himself a meal that could be easily taken to the beach. Allowing Sansa time to change, Jaime waited outside with the horse when it was brought, holding the reins until she met him at the gate. It was a fine, white stallion that Jaime often rode when on duty for the Kingsguard and he could easily carry Jaime in his heavy armor, so he reasoned it could carry them both too. Jaime was also sure Sansa would find the horse lovely. A part of him worried about leaving her alone for this short period of time, but he knew they could not always be together and trusted no harm would come to her within such a short span. 

When Sansa finally made her way outside, Jaime looked down, half-embarrassed by the various ladies who giggled and whispered at the sight of them. He had no doubt that Sansa and himself would be the talk of court that evening—how in love they must be if he was taking her riding and to the beach the day after their wedding, and how romantic it all was. Little did they know the reality of the marriage.

Swallowing the lump in his throat. Jaime snapped his head back up to look at Sansa when he caught sight of _her_. Cersei. She stood on a balcony, glowering down at Jaime and Sansa with a look of pure hatred. She must have heard that Jaime had called for his horse and came to see what the matter was. Jaime met her gaze with an expression of sad resign. He seemed to say, _why are you angry? You did this. This is your fault. You do not get to be angry. We could have been happy, you and I_. But Jaime knew Cersei would hate Sansa as long as she was the reason that he was kept from her. She had taken away the Queen’s brother and lover, even if Cersei had played a part in the decision herself.

After their meeting in the garden, Sansa had hurried inside to change into her riding clothes. Excitement coursing through her veins, she held her skirts up so she could walk faster. Shae kept the pace well, a small smile on her face despite the fact Sansa would be alone with Jaime, who she still didn’t trust or particularly like. It had been a long time since she’d seen the girl so happy though, and that made Shae happy too. Sansa deserved a bit of happiness after all the terrible things that had occurred in King’s Landing, at Winterfell, and then to her mother and brother.

Sansa changed as quickly as possible before heading towards the gates to where Jaime said he’d be waiting. She was trying to leave the Keep and leave all the eyes of the court. It wasn’t long before she saw Jaime standing with his white horse. “He’s beautiful…” Sansa murmured when she came within earshot. Even though she didn’t know much about horses and couldn’t ride as well as others, she always admired their beauty. The horse had distracted her so much that she hadn’t noticed where Jaime was looking, too focused on what they were going to do as well. Only the giggling of ladies made it to her ear; a sound she had learned to ignore for years when she was betrothed to Joffrey.

“We’re really going to the beach?” It was a rhetorical question really, but Sansa couldn’t help but ask in amazement; nothing good _ever_ happened, especially in King’s Landing. She looked up at Jaime, seeing a flicker of something in his eye. It was _something_ , but she wasn’t sure what exactly. Whatever it had been, it was gone now and replaced by the excitement she’d seen before in the gardens.

“Yes, we’re really going to the beach,” Jaime laughed, looking down into Sansa’s eyes before carefully picking her up by the waist to place her upon the horse. Sansa inhaled sharply when Jaime placed his hands on her hips and lifted her up onto the saddle. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, just much more intimate than she had expected it to be. “Comfortable?” She nodded so he could climb on behind her, and he only did so once she nodded. Sansa had been so excited about going to the beach and getting out of the Keep, she hadn’t fully thought about _how_ they’d get there. 

“Still comfortable?” Jaime had to ask again. His body was pressed against hers and his arms were around her to hold onto the reins. He hoped he did not frighten Sansa by being so close, but he also assumed she knew what to expect when agreeing to share a horse to the beach. There was no other way for her to learn and for the two of them to ride together, but he would not proceed with the ride if she were uncomfortable. From the chatter around them, there would a lot of gossip at court tonight if nothing else. 

“Yes, I am.” His chest was flush against her back, arms along either side of her holding the reins. She was glad that he was sitting behind her so he couldn’t see how flushed her face had become. It wasn’t as if Jaime wasn’t nice to look at. He was handsome with his emerald eyes and golden blonde hair. He was tall, shoulders filled out for his frame. She’d done well for a husband; so becoming flustered about him being so close was normal…wasn’t it? 

Jaime was relieved to hear she was comfortable with him so close. He suspected that Sansa could be lying, but she sounded sincere–he had heard her lie plenty of times before. He started off out of the gates with her approval and towards the direction of the beach. It was nice to be out of Cersei’s cold gaze, but Jaime had his suspicions that Cersei would have eyes on them no matter where they went. 

Once the path was more open though, Jaime pulled in the reins a little causing him to wrap his arms around Sansa a bit tighter and he urged the horse to gallop off. He smiled as the scenery around them started to blur and his head was over her shoulder as they rode. Jaime looked at her, concerned, “Still doing alright?”

Sansa was breathless as they took off in a gallop. It made her body buzz and her heart beat faster. “Yes. I-I think I’m alright.” The ground blurred, but it was as if she was flying across it instead of running. A smile spread across her face, even as she held onto the front of the saddle, steadying herself. She’d never felt anything like it. A small tentative laugh escaped her chest. It was the most exhilarating thing she’d felt in such a long time. 

The horse eventually slowed. They were far away from the walls and almost to the beach, “Does running that fast always feel like that?” She turned ever so slightly to look at him. “Like… uh flying?” Their faces were so close it threw Sansa off. 

“Yes,” Jaime said simply, smiling widely. He was thrilled with how happy this made her and could only imagine what the beach would be like. It was nice to see this side of her, what he imagined to be the _real_  side of her. The version of Sansa that didn’t have to smile politely, curtsy in front of those who had mistreated her, and consider every word that left her mouth. Jaime was already well aware she was intelligent and could be witty—some of the comebacks she’d delivered to Joffrey had been so clever that they went right over the boy’s head. If this was another part to Sansa Stark, well, Jaime thought that he liked her quite a bit.

With her head tilted, their faces were very close, so close, he was sure she could feel his breath and yet, she wasn’t frightened of him. Jaime licked his lips nervously, and leaned forward. He placed the reins in her hands. “We’re almost to the beach—you try.” 

Sansa let out a breath. “Uh oh, okay.” She turned forward again, swallowing hard. She hadn’t been on a horse in years, let alone directed one. She glanced at him nervously as she eased the horse forward. He twitched his ears back, trying to understand what Sansa was trying to tell him. She bit her lip as she concentrated and got him to start trotting and then into an easy canter.

Sansa let out an amazed laugh. She was doing this, actually doing it without having someone leading her horse. She smiled widely, but her fingers still gripped the reins tightly as if she was afraid that she’d lose control of the sentient animal underneath her. The path was starting to turn from dirt into sand and then there it was—the sea. She leaned back into Jaime slightly, bringing the stallion to a halt. It was beautiful. Blue as far as the eye could see, shimmering all the way to the horizon. Her jaw dropped slightly in simple, yet utter amazement. 

While Sansa gazed at the sea in awe, Jaime held onto her waist lightly and watched her. He could tell that this was important to her, that she truly loved the sight of the ocean. “So, you like it?” Jaime asked quietly, already knowing what her answer would be, but he wanted to _hear_  her talk about it. He wanted her to have that freedom.

Jaime followed Sansa’s line of vision though and looked at the sea where she was. It was truly beautiful, and he could not imagine seeing it for the first time, but watching Sansa—it was just as good. Her energy was palpable and he was _truly_  happy for her. This was worth any punishment Cersei may have for him for taking Sansa out alone. 

“Y-yes,” she breathed. “It’s the most amazing thing I’ve seen.” In truth, Sansa didn’t have words to describe what she was feeling or thinking. “I can’t believe I’m actually seeing it.” Without over thinking it, Sansa cued the stallion to walk forward. She wanted to be closer to it, make sure that it was real. She was sure that she could smell the salt in the breeze just as she could still feel the light touch of Jaime’s hands on her waist. 

Sansa glanced back to Jaime, who apparently hadn’t stopped watching her, “Thank you.” When was it last that Sansa had smiled so much? Her cheeks were going to hurt by the end of this trip. She loosened the reins in her hands while waiting for Jaime to dismount.

Once the horse was at a standstill, Jaime dismounted and reached up to help her down too. He then unloaded the pack, carefully lying out the blanket after tying the horse up to a nearby post. When Jaime returned to Sansa, he watched her again, content. 

“There’s no need to thank me, you know. If it wasn’t for my family, you wouldn’t be trapped here. But I suppose, the beach is a small consolation...” Jaime trailed off as he took a place beside her to watch the waves roll into the bay.  

He was quiet for a minute, listening to the crash of waves, and the gulls call out overhead. “But I’m pleased you like it. Really, I am.” Jaime looked over at her again, smiling hopefully. He couldn’t recall the last time he had smiled so much in a day as well. He felt strange--should he feel this happy the day after his forced marriage to a Stark? Did he _deserve_  to feel this bit of joy after what his family had done to Sansa Stark? His smile began to fade a little as all the guilt washed over him.

Sansa had wandered closer to the water, watching how the waves broke over onto the sand. She wanted to take her shoes off, digging her toes in the sand as the waves made her dress wet. She held her hands in front of her, playing with a clip on her dress idly. 

“Sansa, your dress...” Jaime began, following her towards the sea, sliding out of his boots and stockings. He froze in place whenever she continued though, and he stared at her incredulously. 

“You didn’t do it,” Sansa stated suddenly. She turned to face him, “Ever since we were told about our engagement, you’ve been nothing but kind to me, Jaime. Then you bring me out here, away from the keep for the first time in so long. Coming here today means everything.” It truly did. Seeing the sea, riding the stallion at a gallop and then Sansa bringing him up to a canter herself had lifted her spirits more than going to the godswood had in a long time. “You did this,” she gestured to the beach. Without Jaime, she would have never seen the beach today. 

“What?” Jaime looked around when she gestured to the entire beach, then focused back on her, shaking his head. “Sansa, I...you’re wrong. I mean, maybe I did bring you here, but you shouldn’t even _be_  in this situation. You should either be back in Winterfell or married to some Lord of your choosing. Someone closer to your age, like--” And he stopped himself right there. _Like Joffrey_  he was going to say, but they both knew a marriage to Joffrey would have been its own hell for her. Maybe, just maybe, a marriage to the Kingslayer wasn’t _so_  terrible when considering the larger picture.

She scoffed, “If I hadn’t have been such a stupid little girl…” Sansa saw Jaime had taken off his boots and decided to do the same. The feeling of the sand between her toes felt so strange, but it was so fun. When the tide rolled back to her and she gasped. She hadn’t expected the water to be so cold.

However, she couldn’t shake the thought that if she hadn’t been so stupid then she wouldn’t be there. Her father would have sent her home with Arya. If she hadn’t come down to King’s Landing and been so trusting. If she hadn’t run to the Queen when Father wanted to leave—so many if’s. Sansa bowed her head, trying to rid the thoughts from her head. If she hadn’t come down to King’s Landing, Father would be alive. So would Mother and Robb. It all happened because she went to King’s Landing and never came back.

Sansa lifted her head. She didn’t want to be sad here. She could be sad at the Keep any or all the time. Who knew when she’d be back at the beach or could maybe even smile again? She took several steps into the water until it was up against her ankles. "My dress will dry."


	5. An Unlikely Retreat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the course of two weeks, Jaime and Sansa continue to escape to the beach together, where they try to be themselves again.

It continued like this for about two weeks. On days when both parties were free, Jaime would call for his favorite horse, order the kitchens to prepare a convenient meal, and ride with Sansa to the beach where they would sit on the woven blanket to eat and enjoy the scenery. Often they would talk about little things--stories and rumors at court or of memories, but other times they would sit in silence, watching the ocean. Neither of them had worked up the courage to go in just yet, and Jaime hadn’t found the nerve to ask Sansa to sit with him and read, although he thought he would ask soon. His comfort with her only grew with each passing day.

Yet as they carried on with their outings, when the weather permitted, Cersei’s bitterness towards both Jaime and Sansa grew as well. Joffrey did not seem to pay much attention to what they did, but Cersei not only kept her eyes on them, but the eyes of others. What she would see and hear was then reported to Tywin, who did not seem to mind the development between the two. To Tywin, he hoped it meant a Lannister child in the near future.

This day, Jaime rested on the large woven blanket, watching Sansa hold her skirts and stand in the water as she often did. She laughed as a crab ran from the incoming waves. He looked up at her fondly. “Why don’t you go in, hm? We’ve been here nearly every day it hasn’t rained and you’ve yet to go for a swim.”

“Swim?” Sansa raised her eyebrows at him. She didn’t exactly know how. It’s not like you could go swimming in the North and survive it or even _enjoy_ when it is warmer. “I don’t exactly know how.” She kicked some of the water up in the air and it sprayed back on her. She squealed into a laugh at the unexpected turn. “You haven’t gone in either.” 

Sansa came back to the blanket and nudged his leg, “So why haven’t you? Is Jaime Lannister afraid of the water?” She teased him with a smile, knowing that it would probably rile him to his feet. Over the past two weeks, she’d found that he could hardly resist a challenge. 

He laughed at the challenge and looked up at her with narrowed eyes. “Afraid of the water? Not at all. Believe it or not, _I_ can actually swim too.” Sansa was right; Jaime wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge. He was quick to his feet, even if he hadn’t planned or particularly wanted to swim. 

Stepping towards the water, Jaime shrugged out of his jacket to toss it aside, and then pulled his undershirt over his head, discarding it with his jacket. Jaime paused and looked back at Sansa, frowning a little. “If I’m going in, you are too! Swimming isn’t very difficult.” He bent down to roll up his pant legs to his knees and walked towards the water. “Besides, even if you’re terrible at it–I won’t let you drown, I promise.” 

Sansa pursed her lips, but removed the outer layer of her dress. She was nervous, but she trusted Jaime. Also, Jaime without his shirt on made Sansa want to blush. It wasn’t as if she didn’t see it every night, but this was somehow _different_. Sansa skipped into the water and jumped slightly into the shallow part. She turned back to Jaime, waiting for him to be closer before going into deeper water. 

“Drowning does not sound like an exciting way to die,” Sansa said as she grabbed his hand as they waded deeper. She gasped as the water rose on her body and she squeezed his hand, drifting closer to him as the footing became shiftier. “So, swimming?” 

“You’ll have to let go out of my hand,” Jaime laughed, “Despite not being _exciting_ , drowning would be a terrible way to go--I won’t let you go under.” He waited until Sansa let go to show her how he kept his head above water, and how he paddled in the deeper water--it was a fairly basic concept. Sansa made a face but let go, swallowing hard. However, the motions seemed pretty simple and she copied them with minor difficulty. There would be time to show her how to swim faster and “properly” later.

“Just do as I do...perfect!” Jaime smiled, watching as Sansa attempted to mirror his actions and a tentative smile even crossed her face, but as she moved to deeper water, her dress began to weigh her down. The sheer dress that Sansa wore under her heavier dress got in the way as she tried to swim, and panic caused her eyes to widen as she started to sink. Jaime had assumed the dress would be a problem, but he didn’t exactly want to ask her to undress completely. The moment Jaime thought he saw her start to get pulled under, he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her back up and close to himself, against his bare chest. He looked down into Sansa’s eyes, smiling smugly. “Told you I wouldn’t let you go under.”

“Thanks…” She clung to him, looking up through the water that dripped down her face. Sansa knew that he was strong, but he was holding her and keeping both of them afloat. Maybe she just hadn’t thought about it that much, but her husband _was_ a well-trained knight before marrying her. 

Jaime tugged her up against him, holding her close while he swam to an area where he had better footing. She felt so small in his arms, and it was absolutely endearing how she looked at him through her soaked hair. “There’s no need to thank me--I promised I wouldn’t let you drown, didn’t I?”

Once they were in shallower water, Jaime looked down at Sansa as he loosened his hold on her so she could swim on her own again. Jaime could tell that Sansa was nervous and he was unsure if it was due to how close they had been, the fact they weren’t wearing much, or embarrassment over getting caught up in her dress swimming. Regardless, Jaime felt a little anxious too. He figured most men would be--being around a woman as beautiful as Sansa whose wet dress clung to her body; but he would not risk humiliating or upsetting her, even if they were married, and only looked at her face with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m alright. I just got scared for a minute,” Sansa admitted. That wasn’t the whole truth, but it was truth enough. She was relieved that she could touch the ground, but slightly disappointed that his grip loosened. She took her frustration out on the hair that was dripping in her face, flipping it back. “I should have braided my hair beforehand. 

“And I wish you would have gotten me into the water sooner,” she laughed. “Even with the near drowning experience.” She exaggerated, pushing at his chest playfully. That was a mistake. His skin was smooth and looked good covered in beaded water. She stepped out of his arms and splashed a little bit of water at him, trying to ignore the thoughts in the back of her head. 

“I didn’t know you’d actually go in!” Jaime laughed now, visibly relaxing when she splashed some water at him. His short hair, soaked through, was not the most flattering of looks for Jaime, but his bright smile distracted from that. “Are you really going to stand there and splash me after I just saved you?” Jaime grinned more now, and it was nice to see him in such a good mood, able to show a more playful side of himself.

He reached down and splashed her back before narrowing his eyes, “Wait...” It was apparent he was cooking up something when suddenly, Jaime rushed towards Sansa and picked her up by the waist, putting her over his shoulder so that he could carry her out towards the deeper part of the water again. It was obvious Jaime was only fooling around because he held on to her tightly, not risking her actually going under the water again. “I’ll just bring you out here since you apparently _love_  the water so much that you feel the need to splash me with it!” 

Sansa squealed so loud when he threw her onto his shoulder, “Jaime!” She kicked her legs slightly, but held onto his shoulders. “I’m sorry!” She apologized while laughing, “I’m sorry! You just looked like the perfect target! It was too tempting!” She was laughing so hard that her stomach started hurting. 

They were in deep enough water that even on his shoulder, Sansa could reach down and splash him from behind, “I’ll keep splashing you then!” She giggled as she kept splashing Jaime, making his hair plaster to his head even more. Sansa thought it was cute so she kept splashing him, even with his protests. 

Jaime laughed harder than he’d laughed in a while, and pulled Sansa back in front of him so that she had to face him. “The perfect target? It’s because I’m a Lannister, isn’t it?” He asked, smiling slyly, yet not bringing up the fact she was technically a Lannister now as well. Deep down, he believed she was and always would be a Stark first. 

Even in the slightly deeper water, he held her close and supported her though; it did not take much of his strength to do so. Sansa held onto him, one arm wrapped around his neck and shoulder while her other hand’s fingers were splayed out on his neck. “Let’s see, that might have something to do with it,” she looked up at him through her lashes, with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Maybe it’s that smug look on your face.”

Leaning in close to her so that he did not have to speak loudly over the waves, Jaime raised an eyebrow and said, “I call for a truce, Lady Sansa. Do you accept?” He knew she would get a kick out of him calling her ‘Lady Sansa’–she always did and would often tease him back with his title. 

 _Lord Jaime_. He did not tell Sansa how the title displeased him, but Jaime figured Sansa probably had her assumptions. He missed the title _Ser_ and the life that came along with being a knight and member of the Kingsguard. While life wedded to Sansa was growing on him, the title still stung when he heard it said aloud. 

Jaime’s nose brushed hers as he leaned in, “I could put it into consideration, Lord Jaime…” She teased him back, but it was very light. She could see the look in his eyes when someone called him that. Something he either couldn’t hide or didn’t care to. “What do you have in mind for the treaty?” 

She didn’t see Jaime lesser because he wasn’t in the Kingsguard anymore. If anything he’d been her own personal knight lately. She rarely saw Joffrey or the Queen and when she did, Jaime kept their cruelty to a minimum. Then there was the beach almost every day. He was still a knight. She just wished that he could see that. 

“The treaty!” Jaime tried to not react too strongly to hearing _Lord Jaime_  and to be fair, it was always easier to hear Sansa say it than anyone else. “Well, in exchange for you to stop soaking me, _well_...I can provide you safety from the terrible king, the cruel queen, and the queen’s wicked father, but in exchange, you’re unfortunately stuck with me until death comes for one of us.” Jaime laughed at this because, really, this was their arrangement already. He also laughed because he feared if he did not, he may weep.

The whole conversation, although joking, stung. Being called _Lord_ , having to admit nearly all of his blood relatives were terrible, and then recalling the fact Sansa was only there because she was being forced into this marriage hurt more than Jaime had expected it all to.

“Well that sounds all great and dandy, but I’ll have to add some terms!” Her heart clenched at how strained his laugh was. “First, I demand that we have beach days every day possible, with a picnic. Second, you must teach me to ride horseback.” Sansa wanted to race him one day, down the beach and back. “Third, you must make me laugh on a daily basis.” She nudged his nose with hers, trying to cheer him up. Sansa wasn’t the only prisoner anymore. Her kind blue eyes looked into his painfully sad, green ones. Sadness darkened the color, just like it did hers. Her thumb softly rubbed the side of his neck, soothing whatever thoughts raged inside his head. Sansa wanted to see him smile again, to hear his unrestrained laugh, and see his eyes glitter. However, she wasn’t sure how she could do that for him.

Jaime subconsciously pulled Sansa a little closer as she rubbed his neck. “I’m not sure about the laughter, but I _do_ believe I’ve been doing the others.” He smiled at her, but just as his eyes reflected his own sadness, his smile was not as bright and easy as usual.

With her nose nudging his own, Jaime wanted so badly to kiss her. It would have been easy--he would have leaned in, only inches closer and placed his lips upon her own; but he didn’t. He felt guilt for even thinking it. Yet, she seemed content in his arms and massaged his neck so gently. Would she welcome the kiss? Could she ever be happy with him? _Genuinely_  happy?

“We should get you out of the water, Sansa. The salt will ruin your dress.” It was a pitiful excuse. 

Sansa wanted to stay here: him holding her and her holding him. She could feel his breath on her lips and silently wished that wasn’t all. However, she nodded knowing he was right, “I’m famished.” As soon as she said it, her stomach clenched in response. She hadn’t realized how hungry she actually was. Even though they needed to move in, Sansa was still being completely supported by Jaime in the water. If anyone asked her directly, she’d never admit to liking being in his arms. She’d say something about his strength and gentleness, but not outright say it. Cersei would have her head on a spike by the end of the day otherwise.

Once Sansa found her footing, Jaime let go. The day was warm but the breeze left Sansa cold as goosebumps rose over her skin. She’d have to wait awhile before putting her dress back on. Next time they came out, she’d bring another one or something that would dry faster.

Conversation over their usual lunch was sparse and Jaime avoided actually _looking_  at Sansa. Not only did he wish to avoid any awkwardness over seeing her in her soaking, sheer dress, but he also avoided her eyes, fearing what he would see there. Hatred? Disgust? Longing? Regardless, he felt as though it was not his place to know.  

Once Sansa was dressed, the ride back to the Keep was quiet as well. Jaime dismounted, helping Sansa from the horse as usual, and this time, in sight of various members of court, he did look at her, feeling it was safe to do so. “I trust you’ll want a bath before dinner this evening, my Lady?” He gave her a small smile. He was dreading this evening as much as she probably was. They were to dine with not only the King and Queen Cersei, but Lord Tywin would be there as well, and personally, Jaime found him more terrible than Joffrey at times.

“Yes, I think a bath would be wise.” Wonderful as well. Ever since getting out of the water, she’s had a chill. Sansa chalked it up to her hair still being wet. She also wanted time alone after almost effectively being ignored during lunch and the ride back. Whatever was going on in Jaime’s head, he didn’t want to share. He didn’t even call her by her name like he usually did.

“If it is any small consolation, I saw to it that you would have a new dress for this occasion. I hope you like it.”

“You did?” Sansa raised an eyebrow, “That’s kind of you, my Lord…” She walked beside him, but didn’t hold his arm. It was as if he’d put a wall between them, luckily Shae was there to take her arm and take her to the bath she already had prepared. Even as she walked away, Sansa looked back at Jaime longing to return to the beach. They should have never left the water. Back at the Keep, they were two sad people trying to keep it together and survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so sorry for the delay! I should be faster with chapters now and want to thank everyone who has stuck with us on this fic! It's been written with such love and there are MANY chapters to come. The feedback has been lovely. <3


	6. A Wolf in Lion's Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the episode on the beach, Sansa must join Jaime for dinner with the royal family.

“Thank you for the bath, Shae, but I’d like some time alone.” Shae nodded, letting her know that she’d be right outside. Sansa sunk under the warm water, closing her eyes, and letting herself daydream. After her bath, Sansa stood in her robe studying the dress Jaime had made for her.

The dress Jaime had commissioned for Sansa was similar to the black one Cersei had worn in mourning. The real difference rested in the sleeves–they were tight, like the style in the North. Emblazoned on the side of the dress’ skirt area were the red lions of Lannister. He had hoped that the dress would please both Sansa and his father. Personally, Jaime imagined that Sansa would look incredible in it and he prayed she would not feel insulted by the lions–she was his wife after all and he did not mean it as a slight. 

It was beautiful, but the lions on the side made her frown, unsure. If she wore this dress, would she be proclaiming that she was a Lannister? Was she throwing away the fact she was, and will always be, a Stark? It did have Northern aspects, like the tight sleeves around the shoulders and upper arm, but it screamed Lannister.

Jaime himself wore a black leather jerkin with red details over a black shirt. Although the colors were not cheery, Jaime was pleased that they would match and be wearing the colors of Lannister armor for the dinner that evening. In the meantime, Jaime waited outside Sansa’s personal quarters for her to be ready. He would make sure she did not enter the hall alone. It would be unfair to send a wolf alone into a den of lions. 

Sansa would end up wearing the dress though. If Jaime had it made for her then maybe it would help them. Rumors were already circulating the castle that they were a good match, better than expected actually. Many said they hadn’t seen either of them smile much more when they’re together than apart.

She stepped out of her quarters, smoothing the skirt before she lifted her eyes to Jaime’s, “Does it look alright?” She asked self-consciously. Her hair was half up in Southern braids and half hanging down. 

When she stepped out of her room, Jaime’s eyes widened as he looked her over. She was stunning in the dress–even if they were both wearing traditional mourning colors. It suited her very well and he was pleased to see that she didn’t appear to be too sore over the lions on the dress. “You…you look incredible, Sansa.” Even though things had been rough earlier, his smile was genuine now and it was obvious he meant every word. “You’re going to be the envy of everyone–the men will want you and the ladies will want to be you. Although, I’m sure there will be ladies who want you and men who want to be you as well,” Jaime laughed as he thought of a few people in particular.

The time they spent alone must have helped because Jaime’s smiles were definitely coming easier again, but it was hard not to smile when Sansa was in front of him looking like this. He offered his arm to her in hopes she’d take it this time since they had walked apart earlier. Jaime was surprised to find he had missed such a small thing, but he did truly miss it.  

Sansa smiled at him, her cheeks flushed. The way he looked at her made her stomach flip and her pulse start racing. She stepped forward, wrapping her arm around his, “Thank you.” It was comforting to be on his arm again. It felt like she was under his umbrella of protection again. It dawned on her that’s why she had been so upset when they were apart. Earlier, his distance had left her feeling alone again; alone and vulnerable. 

Sansa was silent as they walked to the dinner. Once they were in front of the door, she stopped and swallowed hard. Everyone who wanted her dead, tortured and/or pregnant was sitting in that room. Instantly it terrified her and froze her in place, completely forgetting that she was attached to Jaime’s arm. 

Jaime could feel Sansa freeze as they approached the hall and he looked down at her. “It’s okay,” he urged, giving her an unsure smile. She looked unconvinced, and really, Jaime couldn’t blame her so he bit his lip in response while considering what he could do. “I promise it’ll be okay.” Then, Jaime lifted her hand to kiss it, hoping that small bit of affection would help reassure her that he would not let her come to harm. 

“Whatever lies beyond those doors, I swear to you that I won’t leave your side, okay? I promise.” He hoped Sansa believed him. Beyond that door was King Joffrey, the Queen, Lord Tywin and Tyrion, along with other members of court. She was right to be afraid--the Queen wanted her dead, Joffrey wanted to see her tortured and killed, and Lord Tywin only wished for her to produce another Lannister. Only Jaime and Tyrion appeared to have her best interests in mind.

Sansa took a deep breath, looking up at him instead of the daunting door. Even as he promised that he wouldn’t leave her side, she felt the need to beg him to stay next to her. “Okay. Let’s do this…” She swallowed, exhaling slowly to try and calm herself. She had survived years of their abuse without Jaime by her side. She could do this. Sansa could be brave, even if she was a wolf in lion’s clothing right now.

She took his arm and put on her ‘armor.’ Joffrey would only be able to get so much reaction out of her if she stuck behind her courtesies.  _I am a wolf. I can be brave._ Together they walked into the room of lions who always seemed to be starving for blood. Thankfully, the seats that were left were together--for now. With Joffrey in the room, anything could go wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in 24 hours--can you believe it?!


	7. Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some bad news is delivered at a terribly awkward dinner with the Lannister-Baratheon family.

As they entered the room, Jaime could feel every set of eyes on them. Some of the lesser ladies of the court let out audible gasps at Sansa in her dress. She truly looked like the bride of the Kingslayer. Jaime tried to ignore the looks and instead focused on his family. He pulled Sansa’s chair out for her, allowing her to sit before he edged it back in, and then sat himself. “Good evening, your grace. You too, father, sister.” Jaime bowed his head respectfully and a servant came to the table to pour Sansa and Jaime a goblet of wine each. 

Tywin nodded solemnly and Cersei made no effort to reply to Jaime. It was Joffrey who spoke first. “Lady Sansa.” Joffrey seemed to study her for a moment and he sipped at his wine, upset. “You do realize that dressing like that doesn’t make you a Lannister, correct?”

Jaime smirked at that—any doubts he had about the dress were suddenly gone. It had upset Joffrey to see her dressed like a Lannister and that was all Jaime could have asked for. Someone needed to knock the boy down a peg, his son or not. Jaime opened his mouth to provide a rebuttal when Tywin interrupted, “She has married your Uncle Jaime and hopefully carries his son as we speak. She _is_ a Lannister now, Joffrey.”

At those words, Jaime cringed inside. How could he tell anyone about the amount of courage it had taken to simply kiss Sansa’s hand before they walked in the hall? There was no son and there never would be between the two of them.

Sansa raised her eyebrows at Joffrey’s comment. _He’s right,_ she thought, _I will never be a Lannister. I am a Stark._ However, Tywin’s subtle rebuke to the king had her reaching for her wine. 

A child…it’s wasn’t that Sansa didn’t want children. She did, desperately, but she didn’t want them this way. Not in a marriage she was forced into with barely any sort of affection between their parents. Sansa had always imagined her marriage being like her parents—so full of love it was bursting at the seams. Except this was King’s Landing and love didn’t matter here.

“Does carrying a Lannister child frighten you that much, little dove?” Cersei found the small opening in her armor, virtually shoving her sharp words through it. Sansa’s face paled as she was unable to tear her eyes away from Cersei’s. Her breath quickened slightly as she fumbled in her brain to come up with a response. She wanted to reach for Jaime, squeeze his hand, and beg to leave. 

Instead her hand tightened on her skirts under the table for only a moment. “It would be my honor to carry my husband’s child.” Her words seemed to free her from the spell she’d been under and she placed her hand on Jaime’s arm tenderly. She could almost hear the rage boiling in Cersei. Tywin watched, seeming to be pleased with the answer despite the fact she hadn’t said a _Lannister_ child. Her choice of words couldn’t have been more carefully chosen; she could have meant _any_ husband.

Jaime looked concerned as he reached over with his other hand to place it on top of Sansa’s, intertwining their fingers. He did not like the look on Joffrey’s face—the way he eyed his wife. _His wife_. In his head, that’s what Jaime had thought. _Do not look at my wife that way_. What exactly _did_ he feel for her?

As their food was being served, Jaime suddenly felt sick and didn’t want to touch it. Had he _really_ fallen for Sansa Stark? He thought of her laughing at the beach, splashing him with water, and how he wanted to protect her. _No_. Surely that was it. He only wanted to protect her.

Jaime eyed the food in front of him and looked over at Sansa. He let go of her hand so that they could both eat, putting on more of a facade. As they began to eat, Joffrey spoke up again, “So, do you at least think you’re with child?” 

The question caused Jaime to grip the knife in his hand as he cut at a piece of meat. Joffrey may have been the king, but Jaime shot him a look that could kill. “That is hardly appropriate conversation over a meal.” Yet, Cersei and Tywin both looked as though they wanted to hear the answer to Joffrey’s question. 

At least Tyrion looked very sorry at the way his family was treating Sansa and he spoke up, “My brother speaks true. There is a time and place to discuss such matters and over such delicious lamb is not it.”

Tyrion adding his thoughts only seemed to make the Queen more insistent. She sat up a little straighter, and both Tommen and Myrcella stared at their plates quietly; they knew their mother would not stop at Jaime and Tyrion’s request. “No. Go on, you may speak freely here,” Cersei pressed.

Sansa took her time in chewing the food that she had already put in her mouth, “No, it’s alright. Your family must be excited to possibly have a grandchild, cousin, and niece or nephew. I will have to wait until next month to be sure.” That gave them a full month since she had just finished bleeding. Joffrey made a face at the mention of a woman’s menstrual cycle. That made Sansa’s lips twitch into a small smirk. For being a King who enjoyed seeing people bleed, it was beyond amusing that Joffrey didn’t find this type of blood enjoyable. 

Cersei’s eyes narrowed at Sansa, “Then I expect you will know before then.” If only she wasn’t here. She could be able to fool most of the men in the room if Cersei hadn’t been there to complicate everything. The contempt Sansa felt in her stomach was greater than ever before. She could feel it buzzing through her veins, making her hands shake ever so slightly. 

Jaime glared at Cersei for questioning Sansa further. Why couldn’t she just leave them be? Especially Sansa, she did not deserve the contempt Cersei harbored for her. She did not ask to be married into this family. Instead of making matters worse, Jaime stared down at his plate, continuing to eat. The food that had usually looked so appetizing was doing nothing for him with his nerves like this and he could not imagine how Sansa felt.

 _Sansa_. He looked at her and was more than impressed with how she looked as though nothing was bothering her. It probably enraged Cersei. Jaime leaned close to her and whispered into her ear, “Are you alright?” He would get up and leave with her if she needed that, but by the looks of it, he was more distraught than she was. At least he thought that until he noticed her left hand shaking almost under the table. Jaime did not expect a response from her, but he did reach over, lacing their fingers together. 

Sansa was downright confused at how she felt more anger than fear. Maybe it was because of how Jaime tensed when Joffrey and Cersei persisted about Sansa being with child. When did Sansa become _protective_ of him? She barely ate, mostly moving her food around her plate than actually eating it. Her mind was whirling so fast she could barely keep up with the conversation Cersei had started with Tywin—that was until her mind caught something that made her stomach drop. 

Clearly, he hadn’t heard what was being said over dinner. Jaime was completely focused on _her_  and only her. Sansa felt Jaime’s fingers lace with her own, calming the shaking, “I’m alright. Are you?” She turned to face him. By the look in his eyes, he didn’t hear what his sister just suggested. “Jaime…” She whispered, before gesturing with her head towards Tywin. Even as they had this small moment, Sansa could feel their world starting to fall apart. Whatever they had created in the two weeks of marriage was being ripped to shreds in front of her. 

“You’ve seemed so down lately, dear brother,” Cersei’s voice dripped with poison. “Father seems to agree that you should lead the Lannister army and be where you belong.” The words were like a punch to her stomach that made her lose her breath. Sansa didn’t see Jaime as a Lannister, not really. She seemed to forget that when he had been so kind to her. 

“Of course, your pregnant wife would stay here,” Cersei cocked her head to the side as she raised her glass to her lips.

“Lead the Lannister army?!” Jaime’s eyes widened at this news and he looked away, trying to mask his disappointment. While he did miss the Kingsguard, he wasn’t keen on leading a whole army anywhere at the moment. He and Sansa were finally making progress; either that, or she really was a good actress. 

Sansa felt sick as the whole situation flashed before her eyes. She’d be alone again while Joffrey and Cersei watched and waited for the lies about her being with child revealed itself. Sansa felt hot and dizzy as the images flashed through her mind. 

“Excuse me…” Sansa covered her mouth as she felt she was going to be sick. Her hand ripped out of Jaime’s and she hurried out of the room, making a beeline for fresh air. The night had gotten cool and Sansa felt the fresh air after she made it to an open hallway. She leaned heavily against rail, forcing air into her lungs. How could she let herself think that she could be happy with Jaime? Her knees gave out and she sank to the ground. 

Back in the hall, Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up again. He longed to rush out after Sansa, but reason told him not to. “How long would I be gone? You know I can’t leave her alone like this.” Even Jaime wasn’t exactly sure what _like this_  meant, but it sounded good and Tywin seemed to buy it.

“Of course not. You’d be gone anywhere from two weeks to two months, I assume. But go. Go comfort your wife. If she is with child, we can’t have her throwing herself about and getting overly emotional.” Tywin concluded before taking another bite of his meal, casually.

Jaime stood up from the table only too eager to leave. He walked outside of the room to find Sansa kneeled on the floor practically hyperventilating. “Sansa...” Jaime stepped forward, offering a hand to her.

Sansa looked up at him, slowly reaching for his hand to pull herself up. Now she was embarrassed by how quickly she had left the room, “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have left like that.” Surely she had made a fool of him and by the look of it, he wasn’t happy. She stared at her hands, not meeting his eyes. She was such a stupid girl still, no matter how old she grew. The past two weeks had been the best she’d had in King’s Landing. Of course, it had to end. 

“I don’t want you to go,” Sansa foolishly admitted while looking up at him, biting her lip. Whatever he said didn’t matter, she already imagined the worst possible situation. It left her more alone than ever. Again. She wrung her hands, keeping herself together by a thread.  

“You’re allowed to be upset,” Jaime spoke softly as he helped her up off the ground. “I’m unsure where they’re sending me but...” He trailed off, and used his left hand to lift her head from under her chin so she had to look at him. “My father said it wouldn’t be over two or three months. That’s hardly long.”

Jaime didn’t speak of his fears though; he only wanted to make her feel better. He didn’t bother saying how feared leaving her alone, or what would happen if he died in battle. How when it is discovered the marriage wasn’t consummated, the _best_ case scenario is her becoming Tyrion or Tywin’s bride next. There were already plans for Joffrey and Tommen. Even if he didn’t speak of such fears, they both knew them well enough. 

“I’ll write to you. Would you like that?” Jaime watched Sansa for a moment—how her blue eyes were welled up with tears. He was surprised at the sound that was himself actually whining softly. _Gods,_ he thought, _she’ll be the death of me_. 

“I-I would,” Sansa breathed out. Nothing was more relieving than his gentleness and concern. Her lip trembled as she tried to fight the tears back. She swallowed and took a chance, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his middle. She closed her eyes, listening to his breathing. Sansa wanted to beg him to find a way out of it—to find a way to take her with him, but it didn’t matter. Cersei was determined to tear them apart, even if it meant killing Sansa in the process. 

When Sansa placed her arms around his waist, Jaime quickly wrapped his arms around her. He pulled Sansa close and against his body, closing his eyes as they stood outside the hall. Just like the day after their wedding, Jaime placed his head atop of hers again, closing his eyes. It was nice to hold her. 

For now, Sansa just held Jaime. It seemed that she couldn’t keep herself from believing in this stupid dream. The one where this horrible situation turned into something that could come from a song. Maybe she’d get it shattered once in for all later, but for now it was her solace. A solace that maybe, just maybe, she could fall in love with Jaime Lannister.

 “I’ll write to you as much as I can then. And I hope you can write to me too,” Jaime finally broke the silence. “And I promise, I will return as soon as I can as well--and in one piece!” If something was going to motivate Jaime to not die, it would be her. He would not leave her alone here—a wolf amongst lions. It was unfair to do so. That _and_  he found himself caring for her more with each passing moment. He thought it was outrageous to feel this way about her, a young woman who was forced to marry him, but she didn’t have to love him back. She wasn’t required to do so. He simply _hoped._

“I’ll find a way,” she murmured against his chest. Sansa knew that she would need someone she trusted to get letters to Jaime while he was away. Maybe Tyrion would be willing to help her. Cersei would try to intercept and keep them from getting to him. If anyone wanted to thwart her more than her and Jaime, it was Tyrion. 

“And you better return.” Sansa pulled away ever so slightly so she could see him. How come she already missed him while she was in his arms? They didn’t even know when he’d be leaving. “How can I race you on the beach if you’re in more than one piece?” Her eyes may have dried, but they were red now. They stung too, but even with that she was smiling at him. Gods, she was going to miss him so much while he was gone. Somehow she wasn’t worried about Cersei or Joffrey, but just that Jaime wouldn’t be there when she woke up and went to bed. 

“Oh! That’s another thing.” Jaime smiled more now and he felt the urge to pick her up by the waist so he could look up at her, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked down at her, taking both of her hands. “By the time I come back, I expect you to be ready to race me finally. And we’ll spend every day we can at the beach until I go _and_  when I come back—deal?” 

Jaime raised an eyebrow at his proposition, hoping this would make the time that would pass more bearable for her. As for her safety, he would employ Tyrion to watch over her—not that he could do much if it came down to it, but he did seem to know the right people, such as that sellsword of his. In the meantime, he would be sure to leave his favorite horse there for her to practice with. Jaime had no idea where he was headed, but he already knew he would miss his time at the beach with Sansa. 

“Deal,” her smile widened. Sansa would practice every day to get better until he returned. “I’m going to beat you when you get back,” she smirked, even though she didn’t know how well he raced. A part of her just loved teasing and antagonizing him ever so slightly. Getting picked up over his shoulder that afternoon had been one of the best reactions she’d gotten out of him. Maybe she’d plan out some things with Tyrion. He’d know the best way to get under Jaime’s skin.

Sansa put her hand on his cheek, caressing it with her thumb. So many words were running through her mind: _‘You’ll come back to me. I know you will.’ ‘Don’t get hurt, I couldn’t stand it if you got hurt.’ ‘Don’t go.’ ‘Take me with you.’_ She didn’t say a single sentence. She just looked at him, trying to memorizing every feature so that it would comfort her later. 

Jaime looked back down at her, smiling as he took the time to look at her face too. Who knew when he would be sent away—until then, he would be sure to spend as much time with her as possible and to look at her a little more closely. “You can try, but I don’t think you’ll be able to beat me in a race,” Jaime laughed, giving her one of his big, genuine smiles this time. 

“How about—” Jaime was cut off, his expression going blank. Cersei had followed them out of the hall to see what was taking the two so long and she looked more than displeased to see the pair holding each other while laughing and smiling—such simple gestures, but they enraged her nonetheless.

“Are you prepared to come back and join us? Your dinners are surely growing cold.”

Whenever Cersei would get like this, even before he was married, Jaime would almost always submit to her and now was no different. Jaime was unsure if it was fear or love for her that motivated him and he simply nodded, but then looked to Sansa. “Would you like to join us again? Or I can have dessert brought to your room if you’d like?” It was sad to see the happy Jaime that was there only moments ago shrink away so quickly.

Sansa immediately felt nauseous again when she saw Cersei, “I don’t think I could eat anymore feeling this ill.” There was no way she could go back into that room. “I wouldn’t mind having some lemon cakes…” She squeezed Jaime’s hand, reaching up to kiss his cheek. She didn’t care if Cersei saw because she wanted to see Jaime smile. That’s all that mattered to her then. “I’ll see you later,” she whispered before slipping out of his grasp. Her fingers were the last to break contact before she walked past Cersei. 

The woman twitched, as if she could reach out and strangle the girl. Sansa didn’t look at her, but glanced back at Jaime. She felt guilty for leaving him alone with his family, but he’d given her an out. One day she’d be a true wolf by his side, no longer tucking her tail between her legs and running. One day she’d stand by his side and bare her teeth. One day she’d feel strong enough to deserve him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay with this chapter. As always, I'm hoping to have another up sooner than the last update took. Thank you for your patience and for leaving love!


	8. To War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Sansa have a talk after the events at dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for your patience as I edit these! I am stupidly busy and have been sick for a couple months too, so the patience is so greatly appreciated. Hoping to have another up real soon since the next chapter is a shorter one! Enjoy

The kiss Sansa had planted on Jaime’s cheek before she had left dinner had definitely put a smile on his face, and no matter the news Tywin had for him, Jaime could not be _too_ sad. He at least managed to get through dinner alone.

When Sansa returned to her room though, she changed into her nightgown and crawled into bed with a book. Shae asked if she wanted more food, but Sansa simply shook her head. She was curled up on her side with the book lying flat on the bed. It wasn’t long before Sansa was so lost in the book that she didn’t even hear Jaime come in. Instead of sending a servant in with dessert for Sansa, he had entered their room holding a plate of lemon cakes, just as she requested.

Jaime glanced over her shoulder, trying to make sense of what she was reading. He could pick out words here and there, but so many words on a page were overwhelming if he was not reading them up close and one word at a time. Sitting the plate of cakes down on the bed near her, he reached over to touch her shoulder gently. “Sansa.” He waited for her to look at him before giving her a smile. “I brought your favorite.”

With her hair down all around her, and wearing just her sheer nightgown, Jaime wished to join her on the bed and kiss her. He’d start at her lips before wandering to her jawline, right where it met her neck and he’d kiss there too. All the while reaching down between her legs and—he had to stop those thoughts. She did not _truly_  want him, surely. At least not like _that_ , not yet. Instead, Jaime swallowed hard and looked at her eyes again. “Lemon cakes. Just like you asked.”

Sansa looked up from the book, “Of course, yes.” She sat up, tucking her legs underneath her. “Thank you.” She shut the book with a satin strip between the pages. He looked bright, and not worn down like he’d looked after a meeting with Cersei. She picked up the plate and took a cake, biting into it. Sansa sighed, closing her eyes as she savored the taste. The dessert reminded her of home when everyone was alive and happy. She could see it behind her lids, except there was a change to this picture now. Jaime was there too, smiling and laughing. She opened them and he was watching her. She set the plate down, sucking the sugar off her thumb. 

“Did everything go okay?” Sansa worried about him. She felt guilty for leaving him, despite needing the escape. She moved her hair from her back all to one side. “And…I’m sorry, I left you.” Her eyes stayed on his, “I should have stayed with you.” What kind of wife was she? She couldn’t even support her husband when he had needed her. She twirled her fingers in her hair. A nervous habit she did so often before marrying Jaime. _Before_. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that since then, she hadn’t had been so bad. 

Jaime could only swallow the lump in his throat that had formed as he watched Sansa suck the sugar from her thumb and play with her hair. It was getting increasingly more difficult to think of more… _appropriate_ thoughts, so he took a seat at the edge of the bed, helping himself to a lemon cake as she spoke.

The cake was delicious. Jaime never really cared to eat lemon cakes before Sansa was around, but now—he was really enjoying them and understood why they were her favorite. They were a perfect combination of sweet and tangy with a good texture. “You know, I see why you like these so much. Oh! But yes. Everything went as expected.” He didn’t say it went _okay_ though, but he quickly added, “No need to feel guilty though, my father spent most of the time talking about what I am to do in leading the Lannister army. Seems as though there’s some trouble at Riverrun we need to clear up.”

She sighed, thankful that nothing more happened, “Riverrun?” Sansa turned to look at him. Her mother’s home. The last time she heard, it was taken over by the Freys. Maybe they had gotten too big of an ego and he was going to take care of them. Sansa would endure that sort of trip; she hated the Freys more than the Lannisters oddly enough. At least the Lannisters were up front about who they hated and wanted dead. “It doesn’t matter. I just want you back safe.” She wanted to crawl into his arms, but she just picked up the last lemon cake, split it, and handed him half.

“Thank you.” Jaime gratefully accepted the half piece of the lemon cake Sansa had split for him and her, eating it.

Sansa ate her half, again making sure she got all the sugar off her fingers. What was she going to do without him for two months? She shook the thought from her head. It would do no one any good to think about that while she still had time with him. When he’s gone she would have plenty of time to sulk. “Did he tell you how long you have before you leave?” 

Jaime shook his head and answered, “Not really. He said about a week at most because he’s waiting for confirmation that we need to close in on Riverrun again.” Jaime didn’t want to go into too much detail—he knew it was Catelyn’s home and so he chose his words carefully. “It is my intention to send the Freys back to their own castle. If they cannot manage Riverrun, they should not hold it. The Lannisters will take it back if I am to lead them, do not doubt that. The Freys should give us no trouble. However, there are some smaller, surrounding houses loyal to the Tullys, which…ah, don’t worry about it.”

Jaime paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. He sat down on the bed near her, and looked into her eyes. He was surprised to hear her say ‘I just want you back safe,’ but then again, of course she did. His safety meant hers in this damned situation and he’d be stupid to think otherwise. “Would it please you at all? To have Riverrun, your mother’s home, out of Frey hands? If we manage to take it back completely, then the Lannisters will hold it. It will be as good as yours at that point, but…would it please you?” Jaime could not help but redden a little at his own words—since when was did Jaime fucking Lannister ever ride into battle with the goal of winning land intended for his Stark wife? _Absolutely never_ , and yet, here he was. Getting Tywin to hand it over was a different story, but Tywin had to die _sometime_. For now, Jaime only hoped this move would give her some hope. Hope of first regaining Riverrun from the house that murdered her mother and brother, and perhaps Winterfell next.

Sansa inhaled sharply when he asked her if _she_ wanted the Freys out of her mother’s home. “Yes…” She looked at her hands, unsure of what to feel of the feelings inside of her. She’d felt them before, when she wanted to push Joffrey off the bridge. It rumbled inside, wanting to be expressed. “I want the Freys gone…” She wanted them dead, but getting them out of Riverrun? Now _that_ would be a step in the right direction. That’s all she’d ask for right now. 

She looked up at Jaime, fearing what she might see in his eyes. Was he going to look at her disgusted by her need for vengeance? Would he recoil and move away from her like the traitor’s daughter she was? To Sansa, her mother’s home belonged to Edmure, the Blackfish, and the Stark children if they chose to go there. She picked at the threads on her dress as her stomach churned. Anger didn’t fit her well; not here at least. Not when it had to be suppressed for her survival. When she met his eyes, none of what she thought she was going to see was there at all.  

He simply looked _impressed_. Jaime admired her for admitting it and turned to start undressing for bed, stripping down to his smallclothes, which consisted of linen breeches and nothing else. While he undressed he continued talking, “Well, I guarantee getting the Freys to leave won’t be hard. What _will_  be is holding Riverrun. If the Blackfish decides to raise an army, well that puts me in an awkward position, doesn’t it? Let’s hope he does not.”

Jaime turned back to the bed once he was properly undressed and he crawled into bed next to Sansa, yawning a bit. It had been a long day and the wine at dinner along with all the excitement had exhausted him. “I think we’ll be able to settle things without any bloodshed. The Freys are sworn to us and should leave Riverrun.” He knew that having Riverrun held by the Lannisters wasn’t much better, but at least this way, it felt as though there was a better chance of the seat ending up in the right hands.

 _I could help with the Blackfish_ , she thought to herself. Sansa moved the plate off the bed and switched to laying down on her side facing him. Of course, the Freys were sworn to the Lannisters. Her mother and brother’s deaths had confirmed that. “I hope it’s easy. There’s been enough bloodshed recently.” However, she wouldn’t mind Frey blood being shed. But for their sake, if it was easy, then he could come back to her sooner rather than later. Even with all the thoughts about her mother’s home circulating in her head, one specific one kept coming back: _As long as he’s safe._ She smiled at Jaime as he settled into bed. 

It was amazing how they had gone from keeping a foot of space between them while they slept to something more relaxed. They slept more in the middle of the bed now, but there was still an unspoken rule about touching. Sansa didn’t quite know what to make of her feelings for him. He was kind, gentle, protective, fun, and had a surprisingly good sense of humor. Their days on the beach had changed everything. Her eyes started to flutter while she laid in bed. 

Jaime turned onto his side to face Sansa, nodding, “I hope it’s easy as well.” He smiled as he watched her get comfortable and he almost reached over to brush her hair back out of her eyes, but didn’t—there was that unspoken rule. They _never_  touched in bed. He supposed that would have been too much.

They lie there in silence for a few minutes before Jaime spoke up again. “I’m going to tell Tyrion to keep watch over you. Myrcella will check in as well. She’s always liked you—my Myrcella.” Jaime smiled fondly as he thought of her. “She’s too sweet to be a Lannister, like you—too good for this family.” Jaime’s voice sounded more and more tired as he spoke, but he still spoke his mind. One could fault Jaime for many things, but he was honest and he was a loving father; he could have even been a better one had he been allowed to actually  _be_  a father to his children without fear.

Sansa opened her eyes as Jaime spoke, “Tyrion and Myrcella have always been kind.” She smiled. She had always wanted to know the princess more, but Cersei constantly stood in the way. “She’s beautiful, you know?” Sansa shifted and put her hands under her head. The compliment Jaime had paid her still washed over her warmly. Any part of her that had been cool was now pleasantly warm. 

Sansa was drowsy and her eyes were heavy, “You’re too good for them too, you know…” She sighed, pulling her eyes open and meeting his for a long moment before they slid closed again. If given the chance, he would have been a good father. The way his eyes shown as he spoke about Myrcella said it all; Jaime loved his kids. 

“She is beautiful,” Jaime agreed, watching Sansa. He wanted to tell her that she was beautiful too, but it felt as though it would be against their rule. It wasn’t a physical touch, but still—it felt…too much, so he didn’t say it. Instead, he watched as Sansa grew sleepy and began to nod off.

What she had said was nice, even if he didn’t agree with it and so he responded simply, “Thank you, Sansa.” Jaime pulled his hands a little closer to himself and watched as she drifted off to sleep, smiling a bit as he closed his eyes too. As he felt sleep take over him, Jaime hoped they would have more time before he was sent away—more time at the beach, more time together.


	9. The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of a nightmare, a need is awakened in both Sansa and Jaime.

Sansa slept soundly for a time, but soon started to toss and turn in her sleep.  _‘I’m sorry, Lady Sansa…. Jaime didn’t make it…,’_ echoed in her dreams. She could feel her chest constricting as tears poured down her face. They handed her the remains of his cloak to her. That’s when she the world seemed to grow darker and colors dulled. Sansa turned back to Cersei and Joffrey. Each of them were surrounded by a sort of red fire, but what was most terrifying was their wildfire green eyes. This time she was afraid of them, but in the dream Sansa closed her eyes, clutched Jaime’s cloak to her chest, and waited for death. 

Jaime felt like he had hardly slept when he was woken by the sound of soft whimpers and felt the bed moving under him. Alarmed, he opened his eyes quickly to see Sansa gripping at the linens, crying. Her face was red and soaked with tears and there seemed to be no sign of them slowing. “Sansa,” Jaime said softly, leaning up on his elbows. 

Sansa whimpered as she clutched the sheet until her knuckles went white. Her brow furrowed and her jaw clenched. Tears shone on her cheeks as the scene repeated over and over, ending right before Cersei destroyed her just to start over again—it was a never-ending loop of torture.

“Sansa,” he repeated, with no success in waking her. He wasn’t sure what to do. Jaime had heard that Joffrey used to have nightmares when he was younger, but he had never been around to know what to do or how they were resolved. Instead, Jaime broke that unspoken rule—he reached out and took Sansa into his arms in hopes she would not try to fight him or that he would frighten her. “Sansa, shhhh, you’re safe. I’m here, see.” Jaime spoke softly to her as he pulled her close and up against him. He reached up with one hand and did what he had longed to do since their wedding night—he stroked her hair gently in an attempt to calm her.

Sansa’s restlessness stilled as Jaime’s arms wrapped around her without waking. Gradually, her breathing slowed and her sniffling stopped. It seemed that she was even snuggling into his arms. Occasionally she twitched as if she was flinching away from something and into Jaime, but once she felt he was there her body relaxed. Her whimpers calmed as well, turning into soft sighs. 

“Jaime…” She whispered softly. The way she spoke his name was if her heart had been broken into a million pieces. Silent tears sometimes rolled down her cheeks. She clutched him tighter than she did at the beach. It was as if her dream had awoken the need to have him close and safe. If he was in her arms, then how could he get hurt? 

It was a relief to see Sansa crying less and less, but the fact she was still crying worried Jaime. He was relieved to hear her say his name—she knew it was him there and he nodded slowly. “Yes, I told you, Sansa. I told you I’d be here, see,” Jaime said softly, continuing to stroke her hair with one hand and hold her tightly with the other. 

He wondered what she was dreaming about and if he should truly wake her, but it did seem as though his presence helped her calm down. There would be no harm in letting her sleep in his arms for the night, right? Surely, she wouldn’t be angry with him for only trying to calm whatever fears she was experiencing—at least he hoped that would be the case.

Jaime tilted his head down, pressing his lips against her forehead before closing his own eyes. It felt right to hold her like this, even if it was breaking their unspoken rule. A part of him could weep at how she made him feel; he hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Yet, another part of him still worried Sansa would be angry when she woke in case she did not want him so close.

Sansa breathed deeply, falling back into a restful sleep. She slept soundly in his arms; no more nightmares that night. She stayed close to him throughout the night and well into the morning. Even as the light drifted into their room, she tucked her head into his shoulder, avoiding the light and groaning slightly. 

She was still half asleep when her arm came to rest lazily on Jaime’s side. He shifted next to her, waking her up more than she wanted. “No…” Sansa whined as she shifted to stay asleep. It was easy to fall back asleep, but each time he shifted it brought her to the surface. “Longer,” she mumbled. The sun hit her lids and she instinctively ducked into his arms again. That’s when her eyes opened fully for the first time. 

How had she gotten here? Did she cross that line during the night? Would Jaime be angry that she was so close? Her head was hurting and opening her eyes stung. _Why_? She didn’t quite know the reason, but she was sure she had been crying. She didn’t remember it clearly though. “Jaime?” She whispered, looking up to see if he was awake. 

Jaime had been unconsciously fighting waking up all morning, right until Sansa said his name. That seemed to rouse him from sleep fairly fast because he had _remembered_. He remembered what had happened the night before and how he Sansa had ended up in his arms. Was this the part where she would get angry with him? Perhaps strike him even?

“Sansa?” Jaime returned, yawning a little as he blinked his eyes open. His movements were slow in an attempt not to startle her further. “Mm...you alright?” Even if he was worried, Jaime was still tired and stretched a little. As he began to see her clearer, Jaime noticed her swollen, red eyes from all the crying the night before and felt incredibly sorry again. Whatever had frightened her, it must have been serious to cause her to cry like that. 

He wanted to be sensible about all of this though, and really, he also wanted to avoid getting struck by her, so he let Sansa go. Not only did he let her go, but Jaime scooted back from her a few inches as well. “Look, I’m sorry...last night, you were having a nightmare. I don’t know about what, but you were sobbing and...and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Y-you did that?” Her eyes widened. She hadn’t had a nightmare that bad in such a long time. The last time she remembered was after the riot in Fleabottom. Where she’d been attacked and…. She shook the thought from her head. “You don’t have to apologize.” Whatever she had been dreaming about obviously scared her. Sansa’s eyes met Jaime’s and she scooted back into his arms. “If it’s okay with you… I’d like to stay here longer.”  

The fear was still in her bones and somehow being in his arms made the fear go away. Sansa wrapped her arms around Jaime and rested her head on his chest. She could feel the tension in his body as she laid there. Maybe it wasn’t okay for her to be this close. Maybe he didn’t see her being more than the little Stark girl forced into a marriage. She contemplated moving away when his arms came back and embraced her.

Jaime kind of stared off as he relaxed with Sansa. He glanced down, surprised to see her resting against him with her eyes closed and _actually_  holding onto him as if her life depended on it. He couldn’t believe it—he felt like the luckiest man in the entire world. At this, he scooted back towards her, pressed against her as they held each other close again.

Sansa closed her eyes, not to go back to sleep, but because she felt safe. It wouldn’t be long until she didn’t have that safety anymore. Until then, she wanted to stay there as long as he’d let her. 

“I can hold you for as long as you like,” Jaime said confidently, although it felt as though he was lying to her. Sure, he could hold onto her until he had to leave, but that would be too soon for either of their liking. “Well, or until we go to the beach today.” At least the beach would be something to look forward to. Even if the future seemed bleak, they would have the beach and now it seemed, they had their time alone in their bedchamber too. The unspoken rule between them had not only been broken, but Sansa had practically flung herself into his arms to break it again. 

Sansa hummed, “Until we go to the beach…” He’d moved back against her, closing the space that he’d created between them. She hadn’t truly realized how much cooler his body was compared to hers. Jaime took most of the covers at night, not that Sansa minded because she was always warm. Maybe it was the southern heat that disagreed with her, but with Jaime holding her close, it was the most comfortable she’d been in a long time. 

Feeling his arms around her, it filled a need Sansa had pushed away for some time: _affection_. It had been years since someone held her this close or for this long and it was a void that she carried every day. The void that was so oddly heavy was lifting now. It was like she could breath again after someone getting off her chest. 

It was so relieving that Sansa could have wept if her eyes didn’t hurt so much. Jaime’s arms felt like armor instead of a cage. Something that shielded her from the dangers that surrounded them. It was the first time that she truly believed with all her heart that he was there for her—specifically for her and _only_ her. That there was no hidden agenda for the Lannisters. It was just Jaime and Sansa. That’s all there was. 

As the two of them rested together, intertwined, Jaime began to play with her hair again as he did the night before. He combed his fingers through the long, auburn tresses and rested his head on top of hers before pulling away a little to look at her. _This_ , this felt like they were husband and wife. He wanted to kiss her, to love her, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was a dangerous game they were playing.

There was Cersei and Joffrey who despised every breath of air Sansa took. There was Tywin, who only wanted her for an heir. Littlefinger who watched her with predatory eyes. Margaery Tyrell and her family—he had heard whispers they were planning on getting her out of King’s Landing. And what of Sansa’s own family? There wasn’t much left, but there was the bastard at the Wall. Surely, he wouldn’t like this one bit. Perhaps he had already heard of the marriage and was sharpening his sword as they embraced each other now. Could all these people truly dictate their lives so? Surely, they could not keep this invisible stranglehold on him forever.

Jaime pulled his one hand from her hair to stroke her cheek with his thumb instead. He tilted his head down to kiss Sansa, finally. It wouldn’t be so hard like this—in fact, it felt more than right and Jaime’s fingers in her hair practically made her purr. It was so relaxing and could have put her to sleep if she hadn’t just woken up. Sansa idly traced her fingers in a circular pattern on his skin. With the bed rule broken, it seemed they were taking advantage of it through small touches. She felt complete lying there, and Jaime was so close to finally kissing Sansa, when there was a knock at the door that made him jump. _Shae_. Of course, he had forgotten to count her in the list as she let herself in.

Sansa jumped with Jaime when the door opened. Why did she feel like she had to hide? This is what husband and wife had right to, didn’t they? Then how come she felt the need to scurry away and separate herself from him? She didn’t move, however, she stayed against him only shifting her head so she could see Shae. She would have to explain everything to her handmaiden and closest friend. 

"Apologies, but Lord Tywin wishes to see you Lord Jaime.” Shae bowed her head, averting her eyes. She would have to question Sansa on this later.

Her heart sank when Shae spoke. This would end sooner rather than later. Sansa turned her head up to Jaime’s, “I guess I’ll wait for you.” She rested her head on his chest a moment longer before shifting so he could get up. In that moment, she couldn’t have despised Tywin more. She sat up and watched him before sliding out of bed herself and pulling on a dressing gown. Sansa wanted to kiss him before him left. Instead, she held her hands together and just watched. Hopefully her eyes wouldn’t betray her thoughts to him. 

Jaime only sighed hearing that his father wanted to meet with him. Any time Tywin called for him, it was never good. He could probably count on his fingers the amount of times that it was. He wouldn’t dare to ignore Tywin’s request though and he stood up reluctantly to get dressed for the day.

Looking back at Sansa, Jaime could see the look of sadness on her. He assumed the look was because he had to go so soon and it still surprised him—she actually _wanted_ him to hold her. It also wrenched his heart a little to see her look so disappointed; he’d have to fix that.

“Hey.” Jaime smiled a little and kneeled down in front of her once he was dressed. “How about…” He paused to take her hand in his own and looked up into her eyes, hopeful. “How about you get dressed while I’m gone and have some breakfast with Shae? We can go to the beach when I come back.” To seal the deal, Jaime flashed her a smile to show her this was a promise. “Does that sound alright?”

“I think I can manage that,” Sansa sighed heavily as she cocked her head and smiled. Tentatively, she reached out and placed her hand on his cheek, caressing his cheek with her thumb. His cheek was smooth, but there was just a little bit of stubble growing, “Hurry back.” She wanted to lean down and kiss him. She glanced down to her his lips and wondered how they would feel against her. Sansa looked back up to his eyes, looking brighter with the promise of the beach. 

She watched him slip out of her fingers and leave the room. With a little bit of the lighter step, she slid off the bed and started to get dressed. “Shae…” Sansa grabbed her arm before she tried to leave the room. “I asked him to keep holding me. I had a nightmare… He didn’t do anything but try and comfort me.” Her eyes pleaded with her friend. “I feel things for him.” Her voice was shaky as she said it. Admitting it out loud practically ruined her. 

Shae knew what it was like to fall for a Lannister—she certainly had. Shae knew how they could be gentle, kind, funny, and generous despite their typical, public reputations. When Sansa admitted she had feelings for Jaime, she was not surprised. It had been easy to fall for Tyrion and she imagined Jaime shared many of his brother’s qualities. To Shae, she knew it was only a matter of time.

Shae seemed to soften as she helped her get dressed and simply nodded at Sansa’s confession. This time she was smart and wore something lighter in case they got in the water again. She also knew to bring a dress to change into now. Sansa ate breakfast with her in the room in comfortable silence. She didn’t have to say anymore about Jaime. Shae understood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! I've been terribly sick for literally months and my life has been crazy busy to boot. I hope there is less of a delay for chapter 10. If I have any philanthropic millionaires reading this story ;D h e l p make this get published faster. I got 99 problems and 97 of them are with money. I try to work on this when I can though so stay tuned! ♡


	10. One Last Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime receives some unfortunate news, but there will be, at least, one last day at the beach with Sansa.

The two women shared breakfast after Sansa readied for her day at the beach with Jaime and it was not long before Jaime came back. He had only been gone a little over an hour, but he looked as though he had been through hell and back; he always looked that way after meeting with his father. When Jaime saw Sansa though, his expression at least lit up somewhat. “Are you ready to go? The horse should be waiting by the time we get to the gates.”

Jaime glanced over at Shae who seemed to be smiling mischievously and he wondered what that was about. Whatever it was, he figured it was better than the icy glares he had received before. 

Sansa had been ready for the beach and answered, “Yes, I’m ready.” She stood and Shae handed her the small bag with her clothes. She took the bag and then Jaime’s arm. It wasn’t uncommon to see Jaime looking much older than he was after a meeting with his father. The beach was seemingly needed for both of them. 

Each time they made the walk to the gates, it was like everyone lined up to watch. At first it was extremely uncomfortable, but now it was something they just lived with. If anything it made everything slightly sweeter because everyone thought that they were deeply in love. Sansa’s stomach fluttered at the idea that everyone might not be far off. 

Jaime helped her up on the horse and climbed on behind her. When he wrapped his arms around Sansa, the butterflies in her stomach swirled more. Why was this suddenly new when they’ve done this almost every day? 

On the way to the beach, Jaime was mostly quiet as he held onto Sansa, letting her steer the horse for practice. By now, she knew the fastest way to the shore and was an excellent rider. A part of Jaime thought he may have still coddled her in this just to have an excuse to be close to her. As they rode towards the beach though, Jaime closed his eyes and let the breeze blow against his face and through his hair. The meeting with his father had been so stressful, the fresh air was doing him wonders. He had to break it to her though. It wasn’t fair to proceed as if everything was completely okay.

Jaime waited until they had reached their usual spot on the beach and unpacked before he spoke up. He sat down where he typically did on the blanket and looked up at her. From Sansa’s expression, it was clear she knew _something_  was wrong. “Sansa...my father, he said I’m to leave in two days.” Jaime looked away after he said it, as if he were ashamed of the fact—ashamed he couldn't say no to his own father. He didn’t want Sansa to think he actually _desired_  to leave, because that was not the case at all. “I don’t want to go; I really don’t, but I must. I swear though—I will write you often and I’ll try to work swiftly.”

Sansa sat down heavily on the blanket, “Two days…” She thought they’d have a bit longer together. Her shoulders visibly fell with the news. Why was Tywin insisting Jaime go? The Lannister army had done fine for years without Jaime at the helm so why the change? It frustrated her to no end. Of course, they had to get closer than they’d ever been right before he was going to leave. What if he thought things over while he was gone and didn’t want her when he came back? What if he didn’t want her to love him? So much could change while being separated for two months. 

She flopped back onto the blanket, hair splayed everywhere, looking at the sky, “You won’t forget about me, will you…?” Everyone she had been separated from didn’t come back. She listed them in her head: _Father. Mother. Septa Mordane. Robb. Bran. Rickon._ All of them she had been separated from and all of them were dead. Even Arya—gods, where was she? She didn’t want to add his name to that list. She swallowed hard and decided that she would do something she hadn’t done in a long time: visit the godswood and pray to the old gods for his safety. 

Jaime swallowed hard whenever Sansa rested back on the blanket, her hair around her. He loved when she wore her hair down in styles more common to the North. It suited her. “Sansa,” Jaime began, sounding sad already, “How could I forget you? You’re my wife—even if you never intended to be, or ever wanted to be. How could I forget that? For as long as I live I won’t forget that.” His voice sounded hurt at her question, especially after he just promised to write her and to try and wrap things up as quickly as possible so that he could return home to her. Jaime didn’t like to be doubted, but he understood why everyone was quick to doubt him and his oaths. _Lannister. Kingslayer. Oathbreaker._ _The man without honor_.

“I won’t forget you.” Jaime fixed his gaze out towards the sea now. He was genuinely hurt she thought he would. Was this love? Why else would it hurt? Jaime wanted to defend himself—assure her he would not even so much as _look_ at another woman in a way other than platonic. That he would think of her every moment he could. That she would motivate him to come back and that when he loved, he loved with everything he had; but Jaime lost the will to defend himself a long time ago. Instead, he sat there in silence.

Sansa rolled to her side, eyes shining from tears she was holding back, “And you’ll come back?” She need to hear him say he would. That he wouldn’t die out there and abandon her like everyone else. After Robb… She choked back her emotion. Sansa didn’t think she could handle losing someone else who promised to get her out. Lose someone else she loved. Loved. Did she love Jaime? She knew she felt something, but was it really love? “Swear you’ll come back to me,” her voice cracked as she spoke. “Swear it.”

How could her heart break so many times after it’s been shattered to pieces? The hole in her chest only seemed to get bigger. Maybe she should stop hoping. Maybe she should stop praying for a way out. Maybe the gods were punishing her for something she had done. Whatever it was, surely she had paid for it in full, plus some. “Please,” she begged. Sansa wanted to be back in his arms, pressed against his chest, but she was afraid to reach out. It was as if she was paralyzed and could do anything but feel too much.

“Please tell me you’ll promise to come back and actually come back.”

It was clear Sansa was on the verge of tears and he swallowed hard when he saw them welling up in her eyes. Jaime had never wished to be the cause of her tears. “Sansa.” They both knew that he couldn’t make this promise. Death was always waiting, especially in hard times such as these, when there was a mad grab for the wretched iron throne. Jaime couldn’t stand to see Sansa cry though—not again. He would have to lie. He would have to swear another oath that he may break, but he did so anyways.

“Sansa, I swear by the old gods and the new—I’ll come home. I’ll come back to you, alive.” To prove his point, Jaime reached down with one hand and picked up hers, stroking it gently with his thumb. He looked at the ring she had received as a gift from the Lannister family the day of their wedding—a gold band with a garnet set into it; the colors of Lannister. Jaime leaned down and kissed the ring as he closed his eyes, sealing his oath to her.

It was almost funny. Jaime had heard that the night Sansa found out she was to wed him, she sobbed herself to sleep, woke up, and wept again. She could not believe the Lannisters were so cruel as to marry her off to the Kingslayer; the Kingslayer who loved his sister and fathered her children. A marriage to a man like that was shameful and Sansa feared he would be cruel. She cried the night before their wedding out of dread and fear. The night of their wedding, she drank so that she would not weep if she found herself underneath Jaime, but thankfully, he was not like the majority of his relatives who would have forced themselves on her. Now, she was in near tears because he had to leave her.

Sansa closed her eyes, holding his hand tightly with both of hers. She bent her head down and rested her forehead against them. Her breaths were hard to control as she tried her hardest not to fall apart in front of him. Already she probably looked like an utter mess but she tried to collect herself. This wasn’t the Sansa that Jaime knew. Sure, he knew that she wasn’t all put together and was cracked here and there, but not completely shattered. Her breaths were shaky for a while until she found a rhythm. Sansa opened her eyes again and lifted them up to Jaime’s, “I’m sorry…” She pulled away, but kept ahold of his hand. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this.” She wiped her eyes before laying on her back again. They needed to make the most of the time they had left together.

“Sansa, you don’t have to apologize. You don’t ever have to be sorry abou—”

With twenty seconds of courage, Sansa sat up and got to her feet, tugging slightly on Jaime, “Teach me how to swim properly.” Her voice was still weak as she interrupted him, but she wanted to laugh with him before he left. “I cannot promise that I won’t splash you though.” His smile was like air to her, she needed it now if she wasn’t going to see it for months. 

Sansa had grabbed Jaime’s hand and was pulling him towards the water—how could he say no to that? Clearly, she wanted to forget about what was to happen and enjoy _now_. Jaime allowed Sansa to pull him towards the water, but paused close to the water. “Wait.” He gave her a small smile before stripping down to his pants and rolling up the bottoms, as usual. Sansa stripped down to her corset and skirts, face flushing at how little clothing she had on. Once they were ready, Jaime ran into the water with Sansa, prepared to teach her what he knew. 

Jaime had grown up at this beach and swimming was second nature to him, which proved difficult in finding a way to teach Sansa. Luckily, he was patient though and was able to show her how to swim the “proper” way. Better yet, he actually laughed as they worked through it. It seemed she had a knack for it, but just lacked the technique. Jaime stayed by her side while she floated on her back. His hands held her lightly, just until she got the hang of it. “This isn’t so bad,” she laughed. 

Eventually she got the courage to go under water and pop up right in front of him. “Boo,” she giggled. She splashed him and turned to swim out of his grasp, knowing that he’d come after her much quicker than she could get away from him. Sansa came up from under the water, gasping for breath and flipping her hair back over her head. She scanned the water for him, but there was no sign of him, until she squealed. 

Jaime fought hard to not laugh from underwater as he grabbed Sansa by the waist, picking her up to lift her high.

“Jaime!” She squealed as he lifted her up into the air. “You scared the daylights out of me!” Sansa laughed as slid back down to eye level. Even in just a corset and skirts, Sansa looked beautiful and the skirts drug through the water below her. Jaime did his best to hold her up though, laughing as his face neared hers. She smiled at him, feeling like she was in some kind of a daydream while lifted up in the air.

Their eyes met as Jaime held her up, and his laughing slowed as they got closer to one another and things began to grow a little tense. Her giggles died as she looked into his eyes, his breath on her lips. Sansa could lean in herself if she had the courage, but only bit her lip self consciously.

Their lips were almost touching, so close, when Sansa continued to struggle against him just a little, causing Jaime to lose his footing on the uneven ground below him. He slipped down into the water with Sansa, laughing again when he came up for air. Jaime couldn’t help but wish he hadn’t fallen if it meant getting to kiss her, but he would not bring up the topic out of embarrassment. He joked out of nervousness instead, “And you thought you could scare me!” 

She sputtered when she broke the surface but laughed along with Jaime, “You could have at least acted scared!” Sansa splashed him playfully, easing the tension in her gut. She could have kissed him but was too scared to follow through. What would have happened if she had? Now all she could do is wonder. 

This time, he didn’t protest when she splashed him, but chuckled again, reaching up to block the salt water from his eyes. “Why would I _act_ scared? I’m not a very good actor, Sansa,” Jaime insisted, lowering his arms when she appeared to be done with splashing him.

“Because it’s the nice thing to do,” she giggled. “I try to scare you so you _should_ act scared.” Sansa stared at him as she memorized every feature of his face. She wanted to remember it like the first time she saw him. She wanted to remember the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and how he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Once she wasn’t moving around as much, Jaime picked her up again, but this time in a bridal fashion. Sansa squeaked when he pulled her up into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, keeping herself close. She’d remember the way he held her and how his callouses felt against her skin. “I wasn’t trying to drown you. You were looking a little dry is all.” Jaime carried Sansa to the shore, setting her on the woven blanket delicately. She giggled as he set her down on the blanket, “You’re too much of a fish anyway.” She patted his arm. 

“How about you try drowning me again after we’ve had something to eat?” He laughed, sitting down with her to dry off and unpack their lunch.

By now, Jaime knew Sansa, and he knew to have the kitchens pack chicken pie and lemon cakes. She seemed to favor that selection very much, but really, as long as there were lemon cakes, it seemed to lift her spirits.

She leaned against his shoulder as they ate. Sansa loved their meals on the beach, listening to the waves roll in. Of course, she ate the lemon cakes slowly, savoring their taste. Jaime was correct in his assumptions—if everything else failed, lemon cakes always made her feel better.

“I am not a fish. You’re more of a fish than I,” Jaime joked, referring to her mother’s side of the family. It made him wonder about Cat. What would she have made of all this? Surely, she would have been furious at the prospect of her daughter being forced to marry the Kingslayer. A part of Jaime wished she was there to see how well things had turned out and to give him her blessing, but that was in a perfect world, he knew. It never would have happened that way.

“Maybe that’s why I’m taking up swimming so easily,” Sansa joked back. “Your ability to swim so well still gives you fish-like qualities.” The reference to her mother made her chest ache. She wished her mother was there to guide her, give her some sort of advice. Maybe in a way she still could, simply by the fact that Sansa remembered her _lady’s lessons_ so well.

Jaime nudged Sansa’s side with his elbow and looked down at her as she bit into a lemon cake, seemingly deep in thought. “Are you enjoying lunch?” He tried to smile as much as possible today. It was likely that tomorrow would be spent packing and tying up loose ends before he left. He still had to make arrangements with Tyrion and Myrcella to keep watch over his wife. Jaime leaned down and playfully took a small bite from the cake Sansa was holding, laughing as he did so.

She was lost in thought, racking through all the information when Jaime bit into the lemon cake she’d been holding in front of her mouth. “Jaime!” Sansa laughed, looking directly at his lips since they now had sugar and honey coating them. Without thinking she leaned in, brushing her nose against his. When their faces were so close they were almost touching, Jaime couldn’t help but blush a little himself.

Almost immediately, Sansa realized what exactly she was doing. Trying to recover quickly, she popped the rest of the cake onto her mouth. Gods she could feel her cheeks flushing even at the thought of kissing Jaime.

She hoped he wouldn’t notice, but of course, he did. Jaime noticed how Sansa pulled away and continued to eat, looking embarrassed, but he didn’t bring attention to it out of fear of humiliating her. Yet, he wished she hadn’t pulled away—there had been so many times when he longed to kiss her and they had been so close yet again. He wondered if there would be another chance. He feared that there wouldn’t be; that if he didn’t make it home, not kissing her would be one of his greatest regrets surely. 

But he didn’t do it. Instead, he gave her a smile as she finished the rest of the cake that had been packed for them. “Even if I am part fish, I think I’m done swimming for the day. I should probably dry off before going back in case I’m wanted for another impromptu meeting but, ….well, let’s hope I’m not.” Of course, Jaime was referring to his earlier meeting with Tywin. He would be pleased to never meet with him again if it could be helped.

As Jaime leaned back on the blanket, he sighed and looked over at Sansa. “It’s strange to think I probably won’t be back here for a few months too. I’ll miss this.” 

Sansa nodded with him as she sucked the sugar off her fingers, “I don’t think I will be either,” she admitted. “It wouldn’t be right without you.” She settled down next to him, crossing her ankles. This was _their_ place. _Their_ safe spot. The place that _they_ connected and bonded. It wouldn’t feel right if she was here without him. She reached between them, threading her fingers with his. She was going to miss him being by her side and oddly, next to her in bed. 

Sansa turned her head, opening her mouth to say something but closing it instead. The words were still on her tongue:  _‘I’ll miss you.’_ She would miss him terribly. Not just because when they were in front of Joffrey or Cersei, he stood between her and them, but _because_ of him. His presence was not only comforting but it was almost necessary to her existence, to her mind. She worked up the courage and turned on her side, resting her head on his shoulder. 

It was sad that he was leaving. Heartbreaking really. However, with his promise that he would come back to her alive, no matter how foolish it sounded, it made her feel better. It gave her something to hope for, knowing he’d fight to come back to her. She laid there quietly against him, watching the waves and clouds in the sky. 

They rested on the blanket much longer than usual, but Jaime made no effort to get up, move away, or pull his hand from hers. He was content there; he was truly happy. As the sun moved lower in the sky, Jaime knew they must head back to the Keep. Although dinner with the rest of the Lannisters was never a pleasant affair, their appearance was necessary, and it was made more tolerable with Sansa at his side.

“We should go,” Jaime suggested quietly. He turned his head to glance at Sansa. She was almost asleep with her head on his shoulder and he hated to move her, but they had to be on time for dinner at the very least. The pair packed their things to go and before he placed Sansa upon the horse, Jaime looked out to the water and the setting sun. “The day I come back, we’ll have to come here.” He secretly hoped she would not venture there without him until then, but he wouldn’t dare limit her. It was indeed _their_ place.

“It will be the first thing we do when you get back,” Sansa promised. She was still a bit sleepy from laying in the sun with him so gave him the reins to get back. She was content riding in front of him, just enjoying herself. This was the first time that she just actually rode with him instead of trying to learn and get better at riding. If Sansa could have fallen asleep against his chest, she would have. A lazy smile spread across her lips while they rode. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience again! Bear in mind, there are over ONE HUNDRED more pages of this to edit. :) It will not end for a long time and I hope you continue to enjoy this story as much as we enjoy writing it.


	11. A Final Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Sansa attend a final dinner together the night before Jaime is to leave. And naturally, the closer Jaime is to leaving, the closer the two seem to get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay again! I anticipate the next chapter not taking nearly as long. c: As always, I will not be giving up on this fic--don't worry! Life is just really hectic. I think this chapter makes up for the delay! ;)

Sansa held Jaime’s arm as they walked inside to their room, “What should I wear tonight?” She asked once they were in their quarters. If he gave her a specific answer, she would probably wear whatever he said, but if Jaime didn’t answer—well, it wouldn’t crush her. The question was more rhetorical than anything as she thumbed through her dresses, chewing on her lip as she thought. 

When Sansa had asked for his opinion, Jaime was already starting to undress. He immediately had a few dresses come to mind, but walked over, shirtless, to look with her. “The gold one.” Jaime smiled as he saw it. “I was going to wear red tonight, and I know those are Lannister colors, but…” he trailed off and placed a hand at the small of her back, “....we’d look nice. Cheerier than usual.”

If she wore the golden dress the Lannisters had gifted her and Jaime wore reds, they would  be quite the pair and Cersei would be furious. Sansa’s long, red hair would only enhance the outfit and Jaime knew it. “If you do decide on the gold dress, you should leave your hair down in a Northern style—you’ll be stunning. Not that you wouldn’t be even wearing a flour sack, but you know what I mean.” Jaime flashed her a smile and shrugged, “Ultimately, it’s your choice, Sansa.”

Sansa pulled out the dress, thumbing the fabric, “I think we would look good too.” She looked up at him. “And red _is_ your color.” She still flushed at his compliment as she pulled out the dress and went behind the screen to change. For the most part, Sansa could dress herself but the laces in the back of her gown were difficult, if not impossible to tighten properly herself.  

“Jaime?” Sansa came out a bit sheepishly, “Could you help me? I can’t get those laces at the top.” She turned around and pulled her hair out of the way, exposing her shoulder blades. Sansa glanced over her shoulder to see if he was coming over to help her. She didn’t want to stand like a fool if he wasn’t coming. 

Jaime was lacing up his own leather jerkin when he had turned his head to see Sansa waiting for him, hair pulled aside, and back exposed. A wave of guilt washed over him as he gazed longer than he should have while finishing tying the lacing on his own clothes quickly. He swallowed hard and tried to push back the thoughts this image of her invoked in him. Jaime wished to do anything _but_ lace her gown up, and yet, he nodded, “Yes, of course.”

His mind was still racing as he took the lacing in his hands, starting to pull it tighter in a way that was slower than necessary. Jaime licked his lips a little as he thought about _opening_ the dress rather than tightening it. He struggled with the task at hand as he imagined a time when they would perhaps be more familiar with each other—Jaime would pull the lacing _from_ the dress and lean his head forward, leaving bruising kisses on her pale shoulders or the back of her neck. The urge to live out this fantasy only got worse as he moved his head closer to focus on the lacing, and he was sure Sansa could feel his breath on her neck. “Could they make these eyelets any smaller?”

Sansa swallowed when his breath hit the back of her neck. It took all of her control not to shiver when his rough fingertips brushed her skin. The sensation rushed up her spine causing her to let out a shaky breath. “Don’t tempt them,” she murmured. “There’s always a way to make dresses harder to get into…” _And get out of_ , but she doubted Jaime would have that much of an issue if he decided to use his hands. The thought made her shiver under his touch.  

She turned around to him when he stepped away, “Thank you.” Sansa reached forward and straightened some of his laces. She was sure that her face was red, but she kept her eyes on the laces. Sansa felt her stomach clench under the tension, making her swallow hard. It wasn’t necessary for her to straighten Jaime’s clothing but doing something with her hands kept her calm.

“Of course.” Jaime looked at Sansa, puzzled since his clothing didn’t _really_ need fixing, but he understood the action once he noticed the tint of red on Sansa’s face. Once again, Jaime swore to himself that he would _never_ humiliate her and so he reached up to lift her chin using his index finger so that Sansa had to look up into his eyes. Instead of questioning why she was blushing, he took it a different route and asked, “Are you alright? This may be our last dinner with Cersei and Joffrey for a long time.”

Jaime’s finger lifted her chin, stilling her hands on his chest. She was scared, from now on she would have to face Cersei and Joffrey alone. “I’ll have to be, won’t I?” Her voice wasn’t as strong as she would have liked, but it got the point across all the same. He had become her armor and her strength. What would be left of her when he was gone? She looked into his green eyes and took a breath, remembering his promise to return to her as soon as possible. She’d have to remind herself of that. 

The topic of dinner seemed to distract her a little from her previous embarrassment, which Jaime was thankful for. “Not to worry though; tomorrow, I will speak with Tyrion about keeping an eye out for your well-being while I’m gone—especially when it comes to dinners with Joffrey and the Queen.” Jaime gave her a wink and grinned, “But really, I think that even if Tyrion wasn’t watching over you, the Tyrells are very concerned about you as well.”

Sansa smiled as Jaime winked at her, “Margery has been wanting to make plans.” She hadn’t noticed how she missed her friend. She’d have to reconnect with her soon. “Dinners will be…,” she sighed, “…interesting while you’re gone. I also believe Tyrion has some books set aside for me to read.” The embarrassment was finally gone from Sansa’s cheeks as she slipped her arm into Jaime’s so they could head to dinner.

As the two walked along the corridor to the hall, Jaime looked down, placing his left hand on top of the hand that held onto his arm. “Staying close to Margaery would be very smart—especially since she seems to have Joffrey wrapped around her little finger. But my brother is lending you books? Gods, I hope they’re good. Knowing him they’re probably all quite depraved.”

“I think Margery will be a much better queen than I would have been,” Sansa stated. “And as for Tyrion, I’ve been enjoying the books he gave me for our wedding and they are nothing of the sort!” She laughed and explained, “They’re about legends like the dragons and direwolves. Plus the stories of Aegon and his sisters.” She shot Jaime an amused glare before entering the dining room. 

Jaime was pleased to see that various members of court and the royal family were abuzz with conversation when he and Sansa walked in. Not much attention was paid to them as they took their regular seats. Topics of conversation covered everything from the Lannister army going to Riverrun, rumors of a wedding between Joffrey and Margaery coming sooner rather than later, the possibility of a new Lannister heir thanks to Sansa and Jaime, and talk of a cold wind blowing in from the North possibly signifying the start of winter, amongst many other topics—some even quite trivial.

While Sansa was grateful that everyone was too busy sharing gossip to focus on them entering the room to take their seats, the rumor about Sansa being with child still made her nervous about what she was to do next month when she bled. There was nothing she could do about it until then though.  _‘Winter is Coming.’_ Her house words echoed in her head in her father’s voice. She wasn’t sure what it meant for her when winter came but she knew that the Starks endured; and that’s what she would do. 

The fact there seemed to be more people in the hall that evening than usual also worked in Jaime and Sansa’s favors. It stopped Joffrey from shouting too many abuses and kept the Queen in check as well; although Cersei often glared at the pair throughout the evening. Their choice in clothing did not ease her hatred. This made the dinner, possibly their last one together for a while, relatively painless.

The worst thing said to Sansa was as she was preparing to leave for the evening. Joffrey had wished his uncle a safe journey the following evening and told Sansa that perhaps she and Jaime ought to ensure she was _actually_ with child this evening. The comment, like much of what Joffrey said, was inappropriate.

Regardless, they brushed off the comment as they often ignored jokes or threats made towards them and returned back to their quarters. Once they were locked within their room, Jaime wandered over to his dressing area to change into his usual bedtime wear.

Sansa struggled with her laces, but got them loose enough she could slip out of the dress. “Aha! Infernal things,” she muttered under her breath as she slipped on her nightgown. As much as she loved dresses, the laces frustrated her as they got more and more complicated. She reached up to her tip toes and hung the dress up for Shae to clean tomorrow. Sansa came out from the screen and brushed her hair smooth. It didn’t take long thanks to the fact she’d worn it down at dinner.

With her hair over her shoulder, she laid on the bed under covers next to Jaime, “That seemed relatively painless.” She turned on her side to look at him. “Don’t you think?” Sansa propped herself up on her elbow. “I think if we had the rest of court there on a regular basis, it wouldn’t be nearly as bad.”

“Besides Joffrey’s usual quips, yes. It is a shame the rest of court can’t always be there; but the Queen would never be so generous to allow that.” Once Jaime was also comfortably in bed, he turned to face Sansa so he could better listen to her. “What of you and Margaery though? I noticed you found a chance to speak with her.”

“We set up some things to do. Mostly walking around the gardens.” That’s what they did, walked around the gardens and talked. Sansa added, “She’ll meet me after I visit the godswood.”

Jaime was pleased to hear that Sansa had already made plans with Margaery; Margaery would be key in keeping her safe. “But that’s good, about Margaery, I mean. She’ll be helpful and she seems like a good friend.”

There had been rumors at court long ago that Margaery and Sansa were a little more than good friends though. Had the rumors been true, Jaime would not have been surprised in the slightest—Margaery was practically Ser Loras’ twin after all. Jaime smiled as he thought about it and raised an eyebrow. “ _Mostly_ walking around in the gardens?” He teased, laughing quietly, and knowing full well Sansa knew of the old rumors—who didn’t? Even if they were true, he would never begrudge her that simple pleasure. He may have given Ser Loras a difficult time about his choice of lover, but it was never out of disgust. Sansa deserved to be happy, even if happiness and pleasure came in the form of the smirking Queen from Highgarden.

Sansa’s jaw dropped and eyes widened at Jaime’s playful accusation. She smiled and playfully pushed at his shoulder, “Yes! I said _mostly_ because we also watch her brother spar.” She shook her head at him, though a familiar faint blush came to her cheeks. She adored Margery and had almost become sisters with her before someone had uprooted her plans. However, she found that she wasn’t as bitter about it as she had been before. Margery and Sansa would still be related by marriage after she married Joffrey. She’d be technically be an aunt, but they could still be sisters anyway.

“You know, you and your brother are relentless,” Sansa laughed. Tyrion had teased her about the relationship here and there as well. Mostly to anger Joffrey, but he teased her playfully all the same. “Maybe I’m the one who should be worrying about those depraved thoughts.” Her eyebrows raised slightly as she teased him, wondering what kind of reactions she could get from him.

“Depraved thoughts!” Jaime echoed incredulously. He returned Sansa’s playful jab by gently grabbing her wrist and holding it back so she couldn’t push him again. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed with her. The moment Sansa began to struggle though he let go of her wrist, not wishing to frighten her. 

Instead Jaime opted to tickle Sansa’s sides unaware if she was actually ticklish or not. “I don’t think it counts as depraved if the entire court spoke of the rumor first!” Jaime insisted, still laughing heartily. He sat up in bed so that he could lean over Sansa and use both hands now.

Sansa squealed the moment he started tickling her sides; she squirmed laughing underneath him, “I think it still counts!” She twisted in his arms, but not out of fear. “Jaime!” She shrieked with laughter as she tried to meagerly ‘slap’ his hands away from her sides, but he came back with the same, if not more, vigorous tickling. 

Her voice may have bounced off the sides of their chambers, but Sansa didn’t realize how loud she was. If anyone passed by their door, they would surely think that the marriage was indeed real and consummated. Sansa, however, couldn’t barely think as she laughed so hard her stomach hurt.  

Jaime’s laughs matched Sansa’s as he tickled her sides, not considering how loud they were being. They had no way of knowing that Cersei was just outside their door passing to her quarters with a few of her ladies. Cersei was certain that her blood was actually boiling upon hearing the pair. The thought that their marriage had actually turned into a happy one sickened her more than she ever thought it would.

When Sansa made an effort to slap Jaime’s hands away, he grabbed her wrists once again and pinned her down gently against the bed as he leaned over her. The action brought Jaime’s face close to Sansa’s own and suddenly the laughter died down a little as Jaime found himself on top of her. Sansa’s laughter turned breathless as he pinned her to the bed. Suddenly, she was aware of every part of her body that touched his. What struck Jaime most was that despite looming over her with one of his legs between her own, and holding her wrists against the bed, Sansa made no effort to struggle out of his grasp this time.

Her chest simply rose and fell rapidly brushing against his bare chest, his hands on her wrists keeping her to the bed gently without putting any of his weight on them, and his leg touching the inside of her thighs. Sansa stared into his eyes, watching them darken. 

It was an odd feeling being under Jaime, but it didn’t scare her. Instead, Sansa thought maybe there was a spark of enjoyment from their position. His eyes bore into hers as she tried to understand what she was feeling. It was a helpless position if Jaime decided to keep her there, but the gentleness in every action and touch assured her that she’d be free with just one word.

As their laughter died down, the room grew very quiet and Jaime was suddenly aware of exactly how warm it was in there. He could feel the light rise and fall of Sansa’s chest against his own and the pulse in wrists seemed to quicken. Jaime could get lost looking into her bright blue eyes, but he allowed his eyes to glance down at her lips, noticing they were slightly parted, as if _waiting_ just for him.

Sansa noticed how Jaime eyed her lips and they were parted, wanting him to lean down and kiss them. But Jaime seemed to be in his own head while he looked at her. Sansa could feel her body heat up, a flush that creeped up her neck instead of starting at her cheeks. She looked at his shoulders and the definitions of the muscles in his arms, knowing full well the strength behind them. 

Meanwhile, there were hundreds of thoughts racing through Jaime’s head. In one version of this, he would kiss her—first on the lips, then on her neck, and collarbone. Jaime would let go of her wrists so that he could feel her breasts through her thin, linen nightgown. Her nipples would perk up under the teasing touch of his thumb and forefinger, causing Sansa to gasp quietly. One of them would push her gown up to her waist, and Jaime would make sure she was sufficiently wet before finally easing his cock into her. He would be gentle; kissing her everywhere he could reach as his hips rocked against her with increasing rhythm.

It was a nice thought, and gods, Jaime wanted it. It was better than the more likely alternative where Jaime dared to kiss her and she fought against him, disgusted. Where she questioned what _right_ he had to her and if he was really daft enough to think she _wanted_ this after being forced to marry him, a _Lannister_. He never wanted to frighten her. He never wanted to force her into anything. He also thought about the oaths he had made: _I am to return her to Winterfell. I am to keep her safe, and safety is away from the Lannisters and the King_. _Sansa is to return to the Starks because Sansa is a Stark. I am to be nothing to her beyond a way home._ And so, Jaime let go of her wrists and swallowed hard as he rested on his side again, ignoring his own desires. “Sorry.”

Sansa exhaled slowly when Jaime rolled off her, not knowing what to say. Well, that wasn’t completely true. She knew what she wanted to say: _‘You don’t need to be sorry. You did nothing wrong.’_ The words were stuck in her throat. She stared at the canopy in amazement with herself. Sansa didn’t fear Jaime—not in any sort of way. If anything, she _longed_ for him. The feeling settled into her stomach warmly, like drinking summerwine. 

She turned to face him, the blush fading from her neck and cheeks finally, but it wouldn’t be gone long. “Jaime,” Sansa whispered to bring his attention out of his head and back to her. “Will you hold me again… like this morning?” Sansa felt silly asking for such a thing, but this was all the time they had. Maybe he wasn’t ready or he thought she wasn’t willing for much else, but she wanted to be held again. Not just in the morning, but through the night. 

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Jaime’s answer was instant and he scooted closer to her, but paused for a moment. “Turn over, I can hold you better that way.” He waited until Sansa turned to face away from him and he pressed himself against her back as he wrapped his arms around her snugly. Jaime was fairly larger than Sansa and so his head fit perfectly on her shoulder, even if it meant their faces were so very close.

She only sighed in relief, thankful he still wanted to hold her. Sansa rolled over as he wrapped his arms around her and she held onto one of his arms. She could feel his heart beat against her back as she closed her eyes, relaxing into his hold. The heat she had felt earlier dissipated as she snuggled into Jaime. Her small body fit perfectly against his bigger one. Even with his face being so close to hers, it didn’t bother her.

Once they were relaxed, Jaime closed his eyes and sighed deeply as he settled in for the night. “Is this alright?” This might have been the closest Sansa had ever been to him, and he couldn’t believe they’d spend the night like this. Jaime loathed himself for being half hard right now thanks to his thoughts from earlier; he prayed she wouldn’t notice and grow disgusted with him. Thoughts of all the oaths he made danced around in his head, and how he was breaking them one by one. The only oath Jaime could possibly keep was to make certain Sansa was safe and to return her to Winterfell.

“Yes,” Sansa answered sleepily. “It’s perfect…” She trailed off as she dozed. Her breathing deepened as she fell into a deep sleep. Sansa’s body pressed closer to Jaime’s in her sleep as she dreamed. Occasionally, she’d twitch in her sleep and her grip would tighten around Jaime’s arm, but for the most part she slept soundly. It was peaceful compared to the night before. 

It wasn’t much longer before Jaime had calmed down and he could feel his heartbeat slow as sleep overtook him. Jaime spent the whole night holding Sansa close to him, relieved she didn’t have any nightmares like she did the night before; but the night was not completely uneventful.


	12. Jaime's Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has an upsetting dream, but upsetting in an atypical way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mark this as a historic day! A day where 2 updates came--even if this is a very short one.

Although Jaime didn’t have a nightmare that night, he did have another strange dream that caused him hold Sansa a little tighter. In this dream, he and Sansa were on the shore of King’s Landing, at their favorite spot. It was that awkward period between summer and winter. When the world seemed to be made of golds, yellows, reds, and browns—their colors.

The air was still warm, but there was a light, cool breeze that blew back the edges of Sansa’s hair. In the dream, she looked up at Jaime and smiled at him as she reached over to take his hand, intertwining their fingers. Everything felt very real. Everything felt good. For once, things were just _okay_.

Jaime reached over to rub her back gently with his free hand and looked down into her eyes, full of love. It wasn’t long before Sansa leaned up to kiss him gently, with familiarity, and he eagerly returned the kiss, pulling her closer to him in his sleep. The kiss did not last long.

In the dream, Sansa broke the kiss and averted her eyes to the beach, flashing a bright smile. “Look.” Jaime’s eyes followed Sansa’s gaze. A little girl, no more than three, with strawberry blonde hair played in the waves. Whoever she was, she held up a shell triumphantly and Sansa laughed.

Jaime awoke with a jolt, feeling sick.

“Jaime?” Sansa woke with a start, voice immediately filled with concern. “Jaime, are you alright?” She twisted in his arms, stroking the one she held. She turned to face him, resting her palm on his cheek. A couple candles were still lit, giving her the ability to see into his eyes. They were sad, incredibly sad. She opened her mouth to call him  _‘darling,’_ but it stuck in her throat. Instead she reached up and kissed his forehead. Whatever dream he had, it had rocked him. 

Unsure of how to comfort him, Sansa wound her arms around his chest and squeezed gently. Trying to comfort Jaime reminded her of when Rickon use to have nightmares and crawled into her bed at night. She used to pull him into her lap, rock him, and sing him back to sleep. He’d sleep in her arms until morning when the handmaidens came and took him back to his room. Now Sansa rubbed Jaime’s back in a gentle rhythmic motion while her head rested under his chin. 

Jaime looked at Sansa’s face, swallowing hard as he remembered the Sansa in his dream who was happy and free—they both were. He gave her a sad smile as he tried to push his panic aside and forget all that he had dreamed. It was better to forget it—it would never happen. People like Sansa and himself never got to lead normal lives, and perhaps that is what upset him the most. He wanted that for her at the very least.

Sansa was good at comforting him and his eyes soon felt heavy again. The kiss she placed on his forehead was more comforting than it should have been. He wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling his heart slow yet again. For the second time that night, Jaime apologized to her, “’m sorry, Sansa.”

Sansa hushed him, “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.” She forced herself to stay awake until his breath evened out. Once she was sure that Jaime had fallen back asleep, she placed a kiss on his shoulder and let herself fall back asleep. Sansa allowed herself to dream of what it would be like kissing his lips instead of his bare shoulder. 


	13. Parting Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Jaime's departure, he and Sansa share some parting words.

When morning came, the light came in from behind Jaime so it shielded Sansa’s eyes, but warmed her body. Her foot that was sticking out of the bottom of the sheet got too warm and she pulled it up near Jaime’s feet, putting her leg between his. 

When Sansa moved her leg, Jaime began to wake slowly as he usually did at the slightest movement. “…hm?” he yawned, and reached up to rub his eyes as he woke. “You okay?” Jaime spoke quietly and his voice sounded strained from just having woken up.

Yawning again, Jaime opened his eyes to look at Sansa fully. With the sun not directly on her, her hair seemed brighter in this light; it made Jaime smile. “Is it wrong I’m upset that it’s already a new day?” Even Jaime wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, and yet he felt it. He was disappointed the day was already there. Jaime longed to stay in bed with Sansa, he dreaded going to speak with Tyrion and Myrcella about Sansa’s safety, and he wished to not leave with the Lannister army too.

“It’s not morning until I open my eyes. As far as I know, it’s still dark,” Sansa murmured hoarsely, face still pressed against his chest. She didn’t want open her eyes and admit he was leaving. Sansa wanted to keep him in bed for as long as she possibly could. She would even defy Tywin Lannister to keep her husband just where he was. Her arms tightened around his chest as if she could lock him there. 

Sansa was still a bit tired from being woken in the night and staying awake longer than Jaime, but she just tucked herself tighter against his chest. “You’re staying here. In this bed.” It wasn’t until she said the words that she realized how possessive she sounded. She partially remembered her mother saying something along those lines when her father talked about coming to King’s Landing. 

“Am I now?” Jaime laughed, sounding amused. In reality, he melted at the thought that Sansa actually _wanted_ him to stay in bed. Jaime closed his eyes too and tugged her close again by the waist. “Fine, it’s dark, and I’m not getting out of bed just yet. Happy?”

Sansa flushed at his laughter, but was relieved that Jaime found her demands more amusing than offensive. She laughed a moment later as he pulled her flush against his chest. “Very happy.” She didn’t think that their bodies could get any closer. Her chest was pressed against his while their legs entangled to keep comfortable. 

This was what Sansa wanted. This was what she had imagined her marriage being like. Part of her had always expected distance between her and her husband in the beginning, but eventually developing a real relationship and falling in love. Her and her husband laughing together, having moments that were only for them, and keeping him in bed until the last possible moment. Everything that she was doing now. 

To Jaime, all of it felt perhaps too intimate, but he wouldn’t dare push her away—not when this is what he wanted so badly, and not when she seemed to want him too. Perhaps it was not breaking an oath if Sansa was willing to be around just _one_ Lannister. What did it matter if she ended up safe and back at Winterfell? Each passing day Jaime felt himself grow closer to her and he couldn’t imagine his life without her now. He only dreaded leaving more.

For now, the pair rested together as the sun crept higher into the sky, getting to the point where it peeked over Jaime’s shoulders and into Sansa’s eyes. They would have to get up soon so that Jaime could speak to everyone he needed to _and_ get ready to go. He sighed, opening one eye to see the sun shining on Sansa’s face. “I really ought to get up. It must be nearing noon by now, Sansa.”

They had spent the entire morning dozing in each other’s arms. When Jaime mentioned having to get up, Sansa groaned. She didn’t want to face today knowing that Jaime wouldn’t be there to hold her for months. If she kept him there, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t ask Tyrion and Myrcella to watch over her. He couldn’t pack his things or give orders to the Lannister army. It would put everything on hold and maybe he’d stay another day. 

If only she had the power to make him stay. 

Jaime knew, and was honestly surprised, that Sansa did not want him to leave the bed or for Riverrun, but he had no choice in the matter. Tywin had made up his mind that Jaime would go, thanks to Cersei’s urging. 

Sansa, however, would wake up only to fall asleep again multiple times and so Jaime decided to let her rest. After all, she had stayed awake longer than Jaime had in order to make sure he had gotten back to sleep. Jaime crept out of bed quietly to go speak with Myrcella and Tyrion, leaving Sansa on her own for parts of the day.

When Sansa woke again, Jaime was gone. It saddened her, but she got up and dressed. It was simple blue dress with gold stitching that didn’t require much to get on. Shae was off somewhere else probably. Since she’s spent most of the day in bed, her hair was in need of brushing desperately. However, without a bath it would particularly hopeless.

As for Jaime, the talk with Myrcella went splendidly. She seemed to understand right away that Sansa would need a friend to keep her company when Margaery was busy, as future queens often are. It also seemed to go unspoken, but understood that she should watch Sansa around Joffrey as well. Tyrion also agreed with this sentiment and promised to look after Sansa using any means necessary to ensure her safety. Although Tyrion’s sellsword Bronn was leaving with the Lannister army, Tyrion knew of others.

It was a little after lunch time before Jaime returned to his and Sansa’s quarters to have a private meal with her and to gather some things to take with him to Riverrun. When he entered their room, he was dressed in his full Lannister armor. Sansa had not seen him in his armor since their wedding and he looked truly magnificent. Despite his looks, Jaime still seemed sad as he saw Sansa braiding her hair in a loose fishtail braid. “Hey,” he said simply, smiling a little before adding, “I hope you have an appetite. Someone from the kitchens is bringing us something to eat shortly.” 

“Hey,” Sansa answered as she turned to see Jaime in full armor, taking her breath away. During their wedding she barely looked at him, only partially acknowledging that he even existed let alone to see how handsome he was in his armor. She stood, just taking him in for a moment. Sansa knew he looked wonderful in his Kingsguard armor, but this was better.

“Wow,” Sansa finally breathed, meeting Jaime’s eyes. “I’m sorry, you look….” _Stunning. Marvelous. Like a true knight._ All those words were stuck on her tongue. Her eyes shone as she walked towards him, “You look amazing…” It wasn’t anywhere near what she was truly thinking, but all her mouth could get out.

The way Sansa looked at him actually caused him to avert his eyes for a moment and laugh softly, with a hint of red on his cheeks. It was the first time Sansa had ever seen Jaime in the armor of his house, so he should have expected a surprised reaction, but not _this_.

At their own wedding, in what Jaime now considered a cruel act, he was instructed to wear his Kingsguard armor. During the ceremony, he was made to first remove his cloak and fold it neatly before pulling off his armor piece by piece to be placed aside. It was an unprecedented affair, but once the armor was gone, Jaime received a cloak for House Lannister to drape it around Sansa’s shoulders—all of this to signify that his time with the Kingsguard had ended and his marriage had begun.

Now, Jaime looked proud again and the armor suited him well—the black, reds, and gold of the Lannister armor contrasted nicely with his blonde hair and lightly tanned skin.

Finally, it dawned on Sansa then that Jaime had said more, “Oh! But yes, I have an appetite, I do.” It was only affirmed by her stomach rumbling a few moments later. She laughed, lightly placing a hand at her stomach. “More than I thought I guess.”

He looked up at Sansa again and smiled, taking a seat at the small table where they always dined privately when allowed. “Good. I’m not sure what they’re to be bringing us, but I did request lemon cakes for this occasion.”

Sansa smiled as she sat down, laughing a little, “You’re going to rot my teeth.” She crossed her legs delicately and leaned back in the chair. It was actually really sweet that he continued to request them for her. It was thoughtful and it warmed Sansa to know he was thinking of her in the simplest things. It saddened her again that he was going to leave her. No, that he was being _torn_ from her. 

“Your teeth are not going to rot from a few lemon cakes, Sansa,” Jaime teased.

Shae brought their food not too much later and when she entered the room, Sansa averted her eyes from Shae’s, a flush coming across her cheeks. Shae raised an eyebrow at Sansa since she had a hard time meeting her eyes. Obviously, tearing her eyes away from Jaime wasn’t something Sansa wished to do. Jaime in his armor was a sight to behold. All she could think about was how he looked like a knight while his armor glittered in the sun.  

“Thank you,” Sansa managed while still having a hard time concentrating with Jaime. Shae nodded to both of them and left them be. Sansa tried to focus on her food and even that was a challenge, hungry as she was. 

Jaime raised an eyebrow as he started to pick at his lunch, and waited until Shae walked out to speak again. “Please tell me you had a better day than I did. On the bright side, Tyrion and Myrcella were very agreeable at least. In fact, Myrcella said she was planning on visiting with you already and Tyrion said he was concerned the moment Cersei was heard suggesting I should be allowed to fight again.”

Jaime’s expression changed to surprised as he tasted a bit of what looked to be a seafood stew and found it to taste very good. He hadn’t liked the look of it. In fact, Jaime was afraid he would have no appetite due to his nerves, but was relieved to find that wasn’t the case.  It was funny—he feared leaving Sansa alone more than the potential of a violent fight or his own death. A part of him wished he could just take Sansa to Riverrun with him. Perhaps it would even lift her spirits to see her mother’s home.

“I haven’t exactly done much today,” Sansa admitted. She had slept most of the day, even after Jaime left. “I’m glad that they were agreeable though. I’m looking forward to my time with Myrcella.” She’d grown into a lovely young woman who walked around like she was ruled Westeros instead of Joffrey. Plus, she wasn’t afraid of her big brother. If anything, she just found him exhausting. “She should also keep Tyrion in his place!” Sansa teased. Tyrion was a good man, just a little wild at times.

Sansa picked at her food, despite the light air she tried to create. Her hunger kept her eating even if her anxiousness made her a little nauseous. She couldn’t imagine not waking up to Jaime for two or three months. Sansa wished she could go with him. She’d never seen Riverrun, where her mother had grown up and spent half of her life. Maybe she’d meet the Blackfish too. Her mother always talked fondly about him. She’d only really met her uncles on her father’s side. Riverrun was too far away to warrant frequent visits. Plus, from what she understood, her grandfather had been ill for a very long time. 

 “Keep Tyrion in his place? My brother may be _eccentric_ , but I don’t think he’ll cause any problems for you. In fact—any letter I send to you will be sent to Tyrion, then delivered to you. Otherwise, do you really believe Cersei would allow you to receive any sort of correspondence?” Jaime sighed, dipping a fresh piece of bread in the soup. To Jaime, it felt as if he was _always_ having to defend his brother. Tyrion had brought up an excellent point though, and Jaime had agreed that this plan would be for the best if he wanted any contact with Sansa at all.

Sansa nodded, “No, she wouldn’t. That’s the safest way to be honest.” She wanted her letters from Jaime. It may be the only thing that kept her going during his absence. She had planned to give Tyrion her letters as well despite joking about him. Sansa sipped her wine, letting the warmth spread through her body. She was already thinking like he had left while he sat right there in front of her. 

“And another matter!” Jaime glanced up from his meal to look at Sansa. Although there were plenty of real reasons to be fearful, Jaime was actually scared of forgetting to tell Sansa a few select things before he left. “Don’t look so panicked, Sansa, I was only going to ask if there was anything you would like me to pick up during my ride to Riverrun to be brought back to you? Perhaps a type of wine? A dress? You name it.” Clearly, one of Jaime’s top priorities was her happiness and making an exciting homecoming. 

But when Jaime raised his voice ever so slightly, Sansa jumped out of her thoughts. She must have looked frightened because his face softened into a gentle smile, “Oh. Um.” Sansa pursed her lips in thought. “I don’t have anything that’s really, you know…Tully.” She bit her lip, not really knowing what object he would bring back. She could have any dress she wanted made in King’s Landing. Wine was something that wasn’t hard to come by either and she didn’t really drink wine. What she really wanted was Jaime back in one piece, but Sansa felt it would be silly to say it out loud. 

Something Tully. Jaime’s expression softened when she had said that. Was she aware of the state of Riverrun right now? How the Freys were doing a piss poor job of maintaining it? Even her uncle Edmure was their prisoner and the Blackfish was gathering forces. What was left? He nodded regardless and answered, “I’ll do my best.” Surely, the same artisans and blacksmiths would still be there. Perhaps there was something he could do yet.

Sansa nodded. Who knew what the Freys had done to Riverrun? They had cut her mother’s throat down to the bone and just tossed her in the river unceremoniously. They mocked their mourning ritual. She hoped Jaime would make it painful for them to get out of Riverrun. Sansa wanted it to be easy for Jaime, but ruinous for the Freys. She also hoped her uncle wouldn’t do anything stupid. He and Edmure may be the only family left to her and she wanted them alive.

At least the lemon cakes were especially good today. The sides flaked off onto Sansa’s fingers and it melted in her mouth. She laughed a little as she tried to make a mess all over the table just eating one.

Jaime relaxed as much as the armor would allow and also sipped at his wine. He watched Sansa, smiling a little as they worked on dessert. He wanted to remember her face and remember her today. The assignment should be an easy one, but one never knew with the Freys. His eyes widened again as he thought of something else to tell her. “The horse I used to ride in the Kingsguard, the one we take to the beach; I’m leaving him here for you. You can practice or take him wherever you like. All I ask is to treat him well.”

Sansa raised her eyes to him, surprised, “You are?” She had thought he would take his stallion with him. “I’ll be sure to take good care of him. He might even be a bit spoiled by the time you return.” The gesture made her heart swell. This was Jaime’s favorite horse and he was leaving him in King’s Landing with her.

"Don't spoil him too much," Jaime winked, struggling to eat the cake now as well. "He'll want nothing to do with me when I return."

“I won’t make any promises,” Sansa laughed. That horse would get treated well, especially by her. She expected that she’d find herself in the stables fairly often in order to ride and find some quiet. Maybe the animal would comfort her while she missed Jaime. 

A silence grew between them as their meal came to an end. It signaled that Jaime was to leave soon and that they would have to say goodbye. “So...you...you’ll be alright? You’ll be...happy?” Jaime looked down, knowing he sounded stupid and he cursed himself inwardly for it. He only wanted her to be happy—Sansa deserved that much after all she had been through. But how could he expect her to be happy? Ever since Sansa came to King’s Landing, she hadn’t been able to make her own choices and he was wishing for her to be happy? His statement was even more idiotic than previously thought. “I’m sorry. No, no I can’t expect you to be happy with any of this. I know that I’m certainly not.”

Her eyes softened when Jaime asked about her happiness. As much as she wanted to be happy, she couldn’t promise him that. Cersei and Joffrey would make it their life’s work to make sure she was unhappy, however, that didn’t mean she couldn’t find moments of happiness. “You’re right… I’m not happy with this situation.” She didn’t want to see him so upset before he left. “I will do my best to find moments. I’m sure that with those you’ve left to watch over me and Margaery, I can find a few moments in each day.” She reached across the table and took his fingers in her hand and gave him a small smile. 

Any time Sansa made a move to touch Jaime or ask to be held or kissed his cheek—any bit of kindness and intimacy really, always left him surprised. He held her hand from across the table and looked up to smile at her now. “I’m not happy with this situation either. But I will do my damnedest to find bits of happiness as well—Bronn will be coming and he’s funny at least.” Jaime was quiet again as he watched Sansa, holding her hand. He was going to miss her greatly, more than he would verbally admit right now.

“You know, I’ll miss you too.” Jaime tried to fight off the blush that he could feel warming his cheeks. “I know you…really didn’t want to marry me, but I’ve found that I’ll miss your company. I will do my best to improve the lives of those at Riverrun and to make sure your uncles are not harmed.” He didn’t say that he would do those things _for_  her, but it went without saying. 

Sansa unconsciously rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, “Thank you, Jaime… I guess it goes without saying that I’ll miss you…” Apparently Jaime had noticed that she was going to miss her husband without her even saying it out loud. Her stomach twisted as she looked into his eyes. Those eyes that she had to come to know and love. She wanted to feel his arms around her again. To feel the safety that only his arms brought.

If Sansa’s hair had been down, maybe it would have hid the color on her skin better. Now it would be plain for Jaime to see it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad since he was going to miss her too. She’d considered her marriage a lot in the past month. She had considered it a curse at first and now, she considered it a blessing. “And I know you weren’t thrilled about our marriage either at first,” Sansa finally added, “But I’m grateful it was you.” She’d found a friend in her husband and someone she could trust. That was rare in King’s Landing, if not impossible. 

Jaime nodded once and reached over with his other hand to rest it on top of hers. It felt really nice to hear Sansa say that, but it made Jaime wish harder that he did not have to go. Cersei was absolutely cruel for giving Tywin the idea to send him away. 

After a minute of silence he stood up slowly and looked down at her. “I hope this doesn’t take long, my lady. I will also do my best to keep my promises to you, and I’ll write often. Please, stay safe above all.” Jaime stood in front of where Sansa sat, studying her as he gazed down at her with his piercing green eyes. He had heard Sansa, on a few occasions, speak of knights when she first arrived. Standing here, in front of her, and in full armor, Jaime felt like a true knight.

Sansa watched him as he stood. She believed him when he said that he would do his best for her and that he’d write her, “I’ll be safe as I can.” As safe as a wolf in a lion’s den could be, but Sansa would do her best to do as he asked. For  _him_. Sansa noticed that the gold in his armor brought out small flecks of it in his eyes.

He wanted to do right by her, and a part of him even wished he could assist the Tullys in recapturing Riverrun if it meant her happiness; but that was a thought that was not safe to say to _anyone_. Instead, he maintained eye contact as he lowered his head and lifted one of her hands to his lips, kissing it gently. Sansa breathed out while keeping eye contact. The moment was so intimate even without even being that close. 

If Sansa stood, she would be right up against his chest. Maybe that’s why it was so intimate or maybe it was because Jaime held her gaze as he kissed her knuckles. It didn’t matter why honestly; it made Sansa’s heart flutter anyway. 

As Jaime looked into Sansa’s eyes, he felt as though his breath was being drawn from him, but he knew this was it and that he had to go. After kissing her hand, he let go, swallowing hard—leaving her was proving to be very difficult. “Goodbye, Sansa.”

Jaime bowed his head once more, and this time, he avoided Sansa’s gaze, afraid of what he would see there. “Goodbye Jaime,” she whispered in return as she watched him leave. 

He turned around, walking from their room; his cape causing a trail of dark crimson to follow him as he walked out. As Jaime walked down the hallway, he felt sick to his stomach because he did not want to leave her. Anyone who saw him pass through the stairwells and hallways towards the stables would have sworn that Jaime looked defeated already, like some sort of abused animal due to the way his head hung and he stared at the ground. For now, Jaime was to pick a horse to take to Riverrun and rejoin his select forces from the Lannister army.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three updates in less than a week? A May miracle!


	14. A True Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finds herself unsatisfied with how she said goodbye to Jaime.

Sansa stared at the door long after it shut, feeling as if her heart had been torn out of her chest.

What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t go with Jaime and she couldn’t stop the Lannister army. Sansa went to the window where she could watch him leave, but there wasn’t the best view of the courtyard. She sighed, wringing her hands before heading for the door. Picking up her skirts, Sansa hurried down the halls. If she was quick enough she’d be able to watch him from the balcony just over the courtyard. 

Sansa was out of breath when she reached her destination, and Cersei snapped her head in her direction with a sour look. Sansa steeled herself with an expressionless face. Cersei watched her as she came to stand by the queen. Cersei may have been the mother of Jaime’s children, his sister, his lover, and his queen, but Sansa was his wife and his friend. That was what he needed.

The Lannister army was patiently waiting for Jaime to walk out to his horse. When he came out, Cersei let out a confused sigh. She did not know why her brother wasn’t on his infamous white horse—only Sansa knew the reasoning behind that. 

 _No_. No, this was not how they were going to say goodbye. Sansa stepped back and Cersei almost immediately grabbed her wrist and said, “You will stay and watch your husband leave now that you’ve come.”

“I will watch him leave,” Sansa ripped her hand from the queen’s grip, feeling her nails rake across her skin and possibly drawing blood. Instead of rushing back to her room, Sansa ran towards the courtyard skirts in hand yet again. There was quite some distance to go and Jaime was almost ready to mount up. 

Sansa called out to him, “JAIME!” and he spun to see where his name had been called. Once she was close enough, she stopped running but walked briskly towards him. “Don’t–,” her mouth was dry and she had to muster up some saliva, “Don’t you dare leave me like that again.” Sansa’s chest heaved from running as she stood less than a foot away from him. She stared silently at Jaime for a moment before taking a step forward and launching herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck. 

It seemed as though Sansa Stark was always surprising Jaime in new ways, but he hadn’t expected _this_. It was customary to watch a loved one leave, but not to say goodbye like this, in front of everyone. Surely, court would be abuzz about this, and yet Jaime didn’t care. He had felt sick leaving Sansa and was relieved he would have the chance to give her a better goodbye.

When Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck, Jaime was fast to wrap his arms around Sansa’s waist tightly, lifting her off the ground. He turned his head to the side and his face looked to be buried in her hair when really, his lips had found their way close to her ear. “I’m sorry, Sansa,” Jaime said simply, closing his eyes as he tilted his head to press his lips against her cheek a few times. Although it was only on the cheek, the kisses were full of a certain neediness from Jaime. What he said was not a lie; he was truly sorry for not knowing what to say before. He wanted to kiss her then and there, but he was only so brave. Jaime held Sansa up and let his lips linger on her cheekbone before talking quietly, “I won’t leave you like that ever again.” 

Sansa held onto Jaime tightly as the warmth from his kisses spread through her, “We should have never left that beach.” Her voice cracked before she tucked her face into the side of his neck.

She was right. They should have never left the beach. It was safe, quiet, and just the two of them, happy. Jaime thought of the dream and he could have wept again, but this was their reality now.

Sansa’s heart was beating hard in her chest; however, she didn’t know if it was from running or being held up in the air in front of the whole court. Sansa held him for a long moment before pulling back so she could see his face. How could she have let those eyes leave her without a proper goodbye? Her hands came to rest against Jaime’s cheeks, caressing them with her thumbs. 

“I’ll be waiting here for you to come home,” Sansa gazed into Jaime’s green eyes. “You just make sure you get home in one piece.” _I couldn’t bear to see you killed, do you understand that?_ She wanted to say, but she didn’t. “I don’t care how long it takes, and stay safe too. Please?” The armor was pressed into Sansa’s chest, but she didn’t care. She was getting the goodbye that she wanted. That they deserved. Sansa rested her forehead against Jaime’s, nudging his nose slightly. _Come back to me_ , she seemed to say with each touch. _Come back to me alive_. 

Jaime clung to her while he could, gazing into her eyes as their foreheads rested against each other. “I’ll come home.” He leaned forward, their noses touching and his lips ghosting just above hers, so very close. “I’ll come home,” he repeated, letting his hands slide up her back. “Until then, Sansa.” Jaime leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth chastely. After all, the whole court was watching.

It was then that Jaime finally let go, and reached up to pull himself onto the horse—a black mare. He looked down at Sansa longingly, but then looked back up to see her—Cersei, on the balcony looking absolutely livid. If the goblet she held was not made of fine metal, surely she would have crushed it. Had he just made Sansa’s life more difficult by their display? Jaime was sure he had, but there was no turning back now, only going forward in order to come back. He used his feet to urge his horse into a run and the entire army was close behind with Sansa Stark, of all people, to see them off. Jaime instantly regretted not kissing her as he thought about the look on Cersei’s face. Jaime Lannister, who despised the gods, prayed that he would have a chance to see her again.

Meanwhile, Sansa’s heart was in her throat as she watched Jaime ride away. She could still feel his lips ghosting over hers. If she hadn’t been frozen and waiting for him, she would have kissed him. One hand rested at her collarbone and the other gripped her wrist where Cersei had scraped her nails. Sansa stayed where she was until the last Lannister soldier was out of sight. When she turned back to go inside, everyone was gone except a few guards that seemed to be waiting for her. _Right, Tyrion is watching over me now_. She just hoped he would be enough to keep her safe.  

The rest of her day went as expected. Shae rubbed her arm in a light salve for the scratches. Dinner was awkward, but Tyrion stayed close to Sansa and took the blows from Joffrey. Tywin replaced Cersei at dinner however. She claimed some sort of illness. Sansa was sure it had to do with her goodbye to Jaime. Tywin did chastise her a bit because of the display, but he wasn’t exactly displeased. 

Jaime and Sansa’s chambers now seemed so much larger without him in it. It was also way too quiet. Even when they weren’t talking, Jaime would often rustle around behind Sansa. She prepared for bed in the quiet, brushing her hair until it was silky smooth. At first Sansa laid on her side of the bed reading by the candle. Once her eyes started to blur the words together, she put the book away and laid down. But she wasn’t able to sleep. Not without Jaime by her side. So, she rolled over and pulled his pillow close to her chest. She could still smell him on it and it was just enough to lull her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did we mention this would be the slowest burn in history and that we like torturing readers? Prepare for the angst, hope you enjoy hurting. Also I think we are living in an AU where I actually update.


	15. Tea and Taverns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has tea with the queen and Jaime journeys to Riverrun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to let everyone know I DO read the comments and they are so encouraging, thank you! I am trying to get at least two more chapters out before I go on a road trip next week!

The journey to Riverrun would not be a short one, and so before nightfall the Lannister army made camp to rest. Jaime found that so far, he felt very alone despite being amongst hundreds of men and even people he considered to be close friends. The riding all day, the supping at night, and even sharing in drinks felt like a solitary act and he stayed silent through most of it. The only times he spoke was when Bronn pulled the words from him.

It was funny to think of—when he had married Sansa, Jaime was sure he would miss life in the Kingsguard, but now that he was back within his father’s military, he missed Sansa. Lying down on a mat alone at night only made it worse. Jaime could hardly sleep no matter how he tried. He tossed onto his left side, then his right, and kept repeating the motion due to his discomfort. The mat was not wide enough to fit two people, but he still longed for Sansa to be there, to hold again. Jaime did not even have the comfort of having something that belonged to Sansa with him. He could see her, remember the feeling of her hair or her skin, and how she smelled, but didn’t have anything that was physically tied to her and it was discomforting. Overall, Jaime ended up sleeping for maybe two hours at most. He still regretted not kissing her properly. 

\--

Sansa seemed to go throughout her days almost numbly. Margery tried to cheer her up with flowers, cakes, and watching Ser Loras training. Tyrion brought her new books to read. Myrcella dined with Sansa each meal, throwing Cersei and Joffrey off their game. Sansa really liked Myrcella; she had her mother’s beauty, but her father’s temperament. In all honesty, Myrcella was becoming a very close friend very quickly. 

“You do know that you’re her stepmother?” Tyrion had asked Sansa when she was returning a book and picking up another. Sansa narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, shaking her head at Tyrion.  

“She’s my friend. Not my daughter,” Sansa quipped back, taking her books and leaving the room. Within them held her letters from Jaime. If Cersei knew, she would take them even if Sansa had already read them.

So far Sansa had been lucky in avoiding Cersei, but today, Sansa ran into her in the halls. “Little dove, you’ve seemed a little lackluster ever since your husband left.” Cersei linked her arm in Sansa’s; there was no way out so Sansa had to let the queen guide her. “And I think I have something that could brighten your day.”

The pair found themselves back in Cersei’s chambers where two steaming cups waited. “I drank this during each of my pregnancies. It brought my energy back up and helped me stay cheerier.”

It was all Sansa could do keep her face from paling. Sansa wasn’t pregnant and Tyrion hadn’t come up with a plan to explain it. “Thank you, Your Grace.” Sansa sat, placing her books in her lap, before taking the mug. The tea tasted bitter and Cersei smiled, amused at the face Sansa made. 

“Drink up, little dove. You want your child to be healthy and strong.” 

\--

Jaime always found the journey _to_  a possible conflict to be tedious, but _this_ , this was worse. He had never felt so alone as he did now. Jaime’s mental state left him irritable at times and depressed at others. It was a miserable existence and journey, and the army wasn’t even half way there after a week. If it wasn’t for Bronn, Jaime might have never properly socialized amongst the soldiers in his command.

“I don’t see what’s got you so bloody miserable,” Bronn teased. He leaned back in a seat, enjoying a drink after dinner. The noblemen of the army dined in a tavern while the rest of the army had set up camp and were served from a large tent acting as a makeshift kitchen.

“I’m not miserable.” Both he and Bronn knew it was a pitiful lie.

Bronn scoffed then laughed as he slammed down his tankard. “I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen you so miserable. And what is there to be sad about? You’re a fuckin’ Lannister, you practically shit gold. On top of that, you’ve got looks—‘could get any woman you want, _and_ there’s that pretty little wife of yours. You could have her _and_ whoever else you wanted—she wouldn’t know the wiser and I won’t tell.”

At the mention of Sansa, Jaime looked defensive and protective of her. Jaime would never dare to cheat on her, no matter the temptation, and it irritated him for Bronn to suggest otherwise. He looked up at Bronn warningly and swallowed hard. Bronn knew better than to keep prodding at the Lion of Lannister. For now, it would be best to not push Jaime too much, especially when it came to his wife.

\--

Sansa went to bed early that night, skipping dinner because of illness. Her stomach seized and cramped, just like during her bleedings except it was much worse. By the next morning, she was bound to her bed, forehead beading with sweat from her fever. Shae sat by her bedside, dabbing Sansa’s face with a cool cloth. “My lady, you need to take the milk of the poppy. It will help you sleep,” Shae insisted, but Sansa pushed it away. Shae sighed, frustrated when she saw a flicker of red on the bed. She didn’t wait and ran to get the maester. 

The news of Sansa’s “miscarriage” spread throughout King’s Landing faster than the plague. The city mourned for her, sending flowers and treats to the castle. Tyrion wrote Jaime telling him that Sansa had fallen ill but that her life was not in danger. Even though he suspected foul play, he would not tell Jaime yet. It was bad enough Sansa was ill, he would not have Jaime turning around and returning to King’s Landing before Riverrun was taken care of. 

Sansa took a week to recover, but wore black and stayed in her room as part of the ruse. In a way, she was relieved that she didn’t have to figure a way out of the pregnancy. 

“How are you feeling?” Myrcella poked her head in Sansa’s rooms causing her to turn from the window. 

“Better. Thank you, Myrcella.” Sansa wore her sadness openly. For once she didn’t have to wear a mask because she was expected to be sad. If she had been anything else, Sansa would be exposed and very much in danger. Myrcella stayed with her for some time, telling her stories and just talking. It made Sansa smile. Margaery also joined Sansa for dinner, bringing her condolences once again. 

“If there’s anything my family can do, please tell me.” Margaery’s smile was sweet, but for Sansa, everything had a tinge of bitterness without Jaime. 

\-- 

When Jaime received word from Tyrion that Sansa was unwell, he felt a need to turn around immediately. To ride back so fast it would probably cause damage to his horse; but Jaime knew it was unwise. He had to fulfill his duty with the Lannister army and even so, by the time it took him to return to King’s Landing, his presence would have made no difference. The only thing Jaime could do was write her.

_Sansa,_

_My brother has informed me that you are unwell. By now, I am close to Riverrun, but I hope the company of Tyrion, Myrcella, Margaery, and Shae are a comfort to you while I am unable to be there._

_It pains me greatly that I cannot be at your side and I hope you do not think less of me for it. I look forward to the day I can see you again._

_Yours,_

_Jaime_

The letter was simple, but to the point. Jaime knew Sansa was a smart woman, and that she would read in between the lines—she would see what wasn’t there. His writing was full of places where he had to scratch out words he had misspelled. Although they did not have the chance to read together, she knew of his dyslexia and how it seemed to manifest under great stress. Clearly, the journey and the news of Sansa’s illness was affecting Jaime greatly.

As Jaime finished penning the letter, a tavern worker refreshed Jaime’s drink. All night she had paid him complements, gave him a bright smile, and even a wink, but Jaime’s focus was on the letter.

Bronn stared at Jaime in disbelief, “Are you really going to let that go?”

“If you haven’t noticed,” Jaime paused to sit back in his chair, bringing the goblet to his lips, “I’m a married man now, Bronn.” He took a sip of wine, setting it down before rolling and sealing the letter with a candle on the table.

Bronn whistled under his breath and watched the woman walk away, “You’re a madman, that’s what you are.” Yet, Bronn was starting to get the picture. Perhaps the rumors being spread at King’s Landing were true; perhaps the Kingslayer had actually found love in his forced marriage to the traitor’s daughter. He didn’t believe it himself, but now—now things were becoming apparent. “What is it, hm? That wench not tall enough for you? Her hair not the right color? We could get you a redhead.”

Jaime reached for his wine again, drinking so he could avoid Bronn’s eyes. His silence was all the answer Bronn needed.


	16. A Looming Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A battle looms in Riverrun, while Sansa has battles of her own in King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I do read every comment and thank you so much for commenting and keeping up with the story! What I have learned is that there is enough hate for Cersei here, collectively, to possibly actually defeat her in canon, my god!

When Sansa had finally emerged from her room to appear in court, she wore one of the dresses she had commissioned with Myrcella’s help. It was black with gold lining and stitching with armor plating her shoulders. Cersei had once suggested she have metal work done on her gowns and now she did. Metal work that matched Jaime’s armor. Sansa wished to make a statement to whoever had made her sick; although she had a feeling as to who it was. _I will not be intimidated. I am stronger than you think._ It made quite the impression on the court and the royal family. Sansa didn’t forget her Northern blood. Her hair was done in traditional Northern braids. This probably wasn’t playing it as safe as Jaime would have liked, but Tyrion was also sure that her illness wasn’t an accident. 

_Jaime,_

_I know that you’re working hard to return home. I am doing much better now thanks to Margaery, Myrcella, and Shae. Between those three, they wouldn’t let me lift a finger by myself._

_Myrcella helped me design some new dresses. I think you’ll like them. Margaery also got me more jewelry adorned with butterflies. I think you’ll like that too._

_Until your return,_

_Sansa_

She had wished Jaime was there while she was ill. If need could be weighed on a scale, her need to be held while she was sick would have broken it. Yes, Margaery and Myrcella did everything for her and made sure she had the best care possible, but she missed Jaime desperately. At one point, she had hallucinated he was there. Hopefully no one had heard Sansa cry out for him. If her friends had noticed, they didn’t tease her about it, which she was thankful for. 

“You need to rest,” Margaery guided Sansa from the small table where they had supped and to her bed. Even while feeling better, Sansa still made it easy on herself to prepare for bed. Margaery combed her hair smooth and fluffed her pillows before letting her lay down. 

“Margaery, thank you for all you’ve done, but I do feel much better,” Sansa laughed a little. 

“I know, but you had me scared. Until you are back to your full strength, I will take care of you.” With a soft smile and a peck to her forehead, Margaery got Sansa settled into bed, blew out the candles, and quietly left the room. When Sansa was sure she was gone, she pulled one of Jaime’s shirt from under the pillow. Even while he wasn’t there physically, Jaime was still helping her feel better by getting her to sleep.

\--

By the time Jaime actually reached Riverrun, he had received Sansa’s letter. He was more than relieved to hear that she was feeling better and that she was surrounded by friends to help and care for her.

Jaime wondered how Joffrey was treating Sansa though, and Cersei. Were they still being as cruel as they had been or had it gotten worse without him there? What was Sansa leaving out to spare him from worry?

Also, butterfly jewelry? He didn’t understand fashion in Highgarden, truly. Between the jewelry and Margaery’s dresses, the style was much different than that of the Lannister women. Though the moment he got to Riverrrun, Jaime commissioned a jewelry maker to construct something for Sansa—something that would remind Sansa of the Tully family and her mother. It would be a surprise for her when he finally got back and it was at least one simple promise he could keep.

While Jaime walked freely around Riverrun, with Bronn for back-up of course, tensions were high. Although allied, the Freys saw the Lannisters’ actions as a personal insult. To make matters worse, the people of Riverrun did not openly welcome the Freys nor the Lannisters. Jaime was always careful of what he and Bronn consumed. There were rumors the Blackfish was planning an attack as well. If it came to that, Jaime would see that the Blackfish was kept unharmed, even if he became their prisoner, and so Jaime thought, _Let them come_.

The Lannister men made camp outside the exterior walls of the castle and so their presence was a looming one causing only more hostility. Everyone could feel the tension in the air; it was palpable. At night, Jaime sat with Bronn outside and stared into the fire, occasionally sipping at a goblet of wine. He had been drinking so much wine out of sheer stress that he felt like his twin sister. This thought made him laugh a little at the least while the light from the fire flickered specks of red and gold in his green eyes.

“I don’t think you’ve ever been this quiet,” Bronn mused, watching his friend and commander before adding, “I think I like it. Means you’re not orderin’ me around.”

“Do I ever really order you around?” Jaime sneered for a moment, but then it turned into a smile. “I have been doing a lot of thinking.”

“So I’ve noticed. Let me guess—about her?” Bronn raised an eyebrow. He knew the answer before Jaime even said it.

Jaime wasn’t silent this time. “Of course about her.”

\-- 

Sansa walked across the courtyard to the stables. Now that she was feeling better, she wanted to practice riding. It had been over a month since she had been on Jaime’s stallion and she hoped that she hadn’t forgotten what she’d learned. Her hands twisted an apple back and forth, a gift for him. It wasn’t hard finding him, thankfully. As if he knew she was coming, he had his head out of his stall and looking at her. 

“Hey there…Honor?” Sansa scratched his neck while feeding him the apple. _Honor—what a name for a horse_. She hoped she remembered his name correctly; but Sansa imagined Jaime, young and a new member of the Kingsguard, giving his horse such a name.

It wasn’t long before a stable boy stopped by and asked if he could offer assistance. It wasn’t long before the stallion was tacked up and ready to be ridden. Sansa held a certain apprehension taking him out without Jaime riding behind her.

“Don’t be scared of him, milady. He’ll feel it,” the stable boy said as he tossed the reins over his head before offering her a foot up. With a breath to calm herself, she stepped into the boy’s hands and hauled herself up on him. It was like she was on him for the first time as she realized how tall the stallion was. Sansa forced herself to take another deep, calming breath before gently urging him forward. The Red Keep had plenty of trails that she could ride on without being bothered.  

Sansa walked quite a distance before reaching a straight path. Here she gathered the reins in her hands and asked for the canter. It almost surprised Sansa when Honor took it up almost immediately with only the touch of her leg. It was slow and collected, but she could feel the energy the stallion carried with him. Feeling confident, Sansa loosened the reins slightly to give him more of his head and extend his stride. 

Euphoria spread through Sansa’s body as she felt the stallion pick up his pace and the wind get louder in her ears. She felt like she was flying while her hair whipped behind her. Her laugh made one of the stallion’s ears turn back to her, but the other pin pointed something ahead of her. He slowed, coming to a trot on his own. That’s when Sansa was able to hear the horde of horses coming up the next path. 

Feeling her anxiety, the stallion pranced in place as if he was ready to take off in the opposite direction when Joffrey and his guards stopped in front of her. She could have cursed. “Your Grace, I was not expecting to run into you.” 

“That’s obvious. Even someone as stupid as you should have known that I’m usually out at this time,” Joffrey spat. Sansa clenched her hands around the reins. “Is that my uncle’s horse?” 

“Yes, Your Grace. Lord Jaime left him for me.” _A lady’s courtesy is her armor_. “He wanted me to be comfortable while learning how to ride better.” 

“Why would he want that? You’re just his whore. A traitor’s whore at that.” Sansa knew better than to challenge him when it came to her status. According to everyone in King’s Landing, she had the blood of a traitor. “In fact, you two might actually suit each other. The Kingslayer and the traitor’s daughter.” He started laughing so hard that he leaned forward on the neck on his horse. Did he not know half of court had said the same thing? His guard laughed uncomfortably alongside their king—Sansa knew it was practically obligatory for them to do so. If Joffrey’s Hound had been there, Sansa imagined that he would not have laughed with the others.

The gelding started walking forward, away from Sansa. Joffrey kept laughing as he walked off. Once she was sure he was gone, Sansa wrapped her arms around the stallion’s neck and cried a sound of relief into his mane. 

\--

Things were going too smoothly. The Freys were ready to share responsibilities at Riverrun with the Lannisters after much debate, and men previously sworn to House Tully would have their say in local affairs. Jaime should have expected it all to go to shit; but he didn’t. He thought that maybe this once, it would be okay, and he would get to go home. 

At night a watchman reported to Jaime that the Blackfish was on the move with sizeable forces of his own, and he knew that this was it. This was when things would go downhill, and he should have expected it sooner. His mind immediately fled to thoughts of Sansa and how he hadn’t written her lately. Would he ever get a chance to now? How was she now? What would she make of him being _forced_ to fight her uncle? The situation was unfair. He couldn’t stand the thought of her never forgiving him for this. Jaime wanted to drink and forget it all.

“What do we do?” Bronn asked, following Jaime, who hadn’t even realized he simply walked away upon hearing the news.

“What do you mean ‘what do we do’? We must fight. The Blackfish will not make peace with us. He will _never_ surrender. The only options are fighting or surrendering Riverrun to him.” Jaime looked disgusted as he spoke. He secretly wished he could surrender Riverrun—what did the land matter to him or his father? Tywin only wished to possess it out of sheer greed and hopes of ruling all of Westeros. 

Bronn could see Jaime lacked conviction, but did not question it. One of the Frey men however, was not so quiet. It was a stupid thing to do, but he stepped out from amongst his kinsmen and narrowed his eyes at Jaime. “It’s her fault.”

Jaime knew what was coming next, and his entire body tensed as he gritted his teeth, bracing for it. “ _Whose_ fault? Please, enlighten me.” He spun around to face the younger man in front of him. His patience was not to be tested right now, but the young man knew no better. In the firelight, Jaime’s anger only made his features look all the more leonine. 

“Your wife. The traitor whore. She was a traitor once, traitor’s blood still flows through her veins, and she has betrayed us again. Don’t you see? She’s written to the Blackfish. She told him you’d come to Riverrun with Lannister forces. She told him so he’d come to kill you and put an end to the marriage she never wa—“

The Frey was cut off mid-sentence when Jaime grabbed him by the back of the neck suddenly, using his other hand to punch his face three times. Jaime’s hand at the back of his neck braced the man still as Jaime damaged his face worse with each punch. After the third hit, he let the young man fall to his knees on the brink of losing consciousness. Jaime gripped his hair and brought his own knee up into the man’s face. There were gasps at the sickening crunch of his jaw shattering or dislocating, Jaime wasn’t sure which. Only then did he let the Frey man go and slump to the ground.

“Anyone else?” There was silence amongst the men as Jaime looked around at them all. “Good. Prepare for a fight.” With that, it was the Kingslayer who walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter update before I head off on a road trip for a week. Brace yourselves.


	17. Into the Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery takes some time to 'educate' Sansa; Jaime finally engages in battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, I am off on a road trip tomorrow for a week. :) Enjoy?

Sansa sat on the bed while Margaery knelt on a pillow in front of her, “You should braid your hair more. I think it’s lovely braided.” Her nimble fingers working through her brown hair, carefully untangling it before braiding it. It was a daily activity that Sansa had come to love. Myrcella still had lessons that Cersei insisted that she took. Somewhere in her mind, Sansa assumed it was to keep her away from her, however, the young girl wouldn’t be kept away for long. 

“I wouldn’t want to take the pleasure away from you, Sansa. Your hair is the most beautiful braided.” Compliments about her looks always made her flush, but she nodded all the same. Sansa knew that she had a certain beauty about her, mostly due to her red hair, but since living in King’s Landing she was less sure of it. Margaery glanced up at her friend to see her doubt, “There’s no reason not to see yourself that way my dear. I’m sure Jaime sees your beauty.” 

Sansa’s cheeks flushed deeper. This made Margaery come up from the floor and sit next to her on the bed, “I saw the way he held you when you said goodbye and how he looked at you during dinner.” Sansa’s heart started beating harder as her friend kept speaking. “Sansa, he shows it so plainly that everyone can see it. Why do you think Cersei gave you these?” Gently, Margery turned Sansa’s wrist over to show the light scars. “You truly don’t believe it, do you?” Sansa just shook her head. “And you two haven’t…?” It suddenly dawned on Margaery that Sansa’s illness hadn’t been because of a miscarriage. “Sansa…” Her hand rested on top of Sansa’s. 

“We haven’t… we haven’t even kissed. Not properly,” Sansa whispered the truth. The peck Jaime had given her before he left… it was a kiss, but yet it wasn’t. Not like the one she longed for from him.

“I hope I’m not intruding, but…may I ask why?” Margery’s voice was gentle. She also left Sansa a way out of the question, but there was no reason to hide it from her.  

“I didn’t want to on our wedding night. And Jaime didn’t force me to either. The only thing he did was help me undo my hair. It wasn’t until several days before he left that he even touched me in bed.” Margery’s eyes widened slightly. “Not even like _that_. I had a nightmare after we were told that he was going to lead the Lannister army to Riverrun.” 

“Do you want to now?” Margery ask quietly. 

“I don’t know. Maybe…” Sansa lifted her eyes from her lap. “But I wouldn’t even know what to do.” Sansa knew her lack of experience also made her more reluctant to initiate more with Jaime.

“Do you _want_ to know how?” Margery smirked with a twinkle in her eye. “I was married. I could teach you a thing or two.” 

The inquiry made Sansa blush harder than before. Margaery had been married to Renly Baratheon, but the rumors were that the two hardly even shared a bed. There were other rumors of what Margaery would do with her attending ladies, but Sansa knew what to make of rumors. What truly made her nervous was that Margaery had experience and she didn’t. What would Margaery think of her? Would she laugh?

Sansa would have hated for someone as beautiful as Margaery to laugh at her. But the thought of learning _and_ sharing such an intimate time with Margaery was too much to pass up. She nodded and meeting her eyes.

Margaery leaned in for a tender kiss that made Sansa inhale deeply and grip her own gown, unsure of what to do with her hands. Sansa felt Margaery’s soft hand on her cheek, stroking gentle circle with her thumb. Margaery’s hands were much softer than Jaime’s had been. It soothed her, and Sansa felt her eyes closing as Margaery deepened the kiss.

The Tyrell soon broke the kiss and met Sansa’s eyes again, smiling, but not laughing. “Don’t be afraid to kiss me back, you know.”

Sansa, ironically, found herself giggling now and took the initiative to kiss Margaery this time, proving she could. The kiss was more passionate this time, with both women eagerly kissing the other and Sansa’s hands on Margaery’s waist, holding onto her dress now.

This time, it was Sansa who eventually leaned away, breathing in deeply for air. “What exactly should I do with my hands while I kiss someone?”

Margaery would show her and then teach her what _else_ she could do with her hands. The entire time, Margaery would not laugh at Sansa.

\-- 

Much had been said about Jaime after he had so harshly punished the young Frey. Some had said that perhaps he was Tywin’s son after all due to this act, while others who had known Tywin in his younger years said that Jaime’s passion for his wife mirrored that of his father’s for Joanna Lannister, his mother. Either way, Jaime did not enjoy the comparison to his father.

There was no time to argue such trifles though. It was only a matter of days before the Blackfish and his forces were upon them, and as Jaime had said, there was no move to make peace. All that Jaime could do was hope that the fact his army held Lord Edmure Tully would be enough to minimize the fighting. He also made sure every soldier knew to take the Blackfish alive—Sansa should not have to bear to lose yet another relative.

When it came time to face the Blackfish and his army, Jaime may have been ready, but he was exhausted. Between the stresses of being away, the excessive drinking, dealing with the Freys, and preparing for battle—the last thing he wanted to do was actually fight; but there was no choice, and the Blackfish did not seem to care what became of his nephew Edmure nor that he was fighting Sansa’s husband.

As the two armies clashed by night, only the moonlight gave any visibility to the chaos. Jaime was thankful that both parties were small, meaning it should have ended quickly. On this note, Jaime was partially right. The battle did end quickly—for some.

Jaime was careless as he swung his sword at Tully men, but his anger could be felt by the force in which he used the weapon. After all, Jaime was one of the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms and so he was impressive on the battlefield, even distracted as he was now. He sought out the Blackfish amongst the melee desperately, but had no success. It was so dark he mistakenly cut down a Frey, and yet, he did not feel sorrow for it. Jaime simply used his arm to reach up to wipe the blood from his face so he could get a better picture of things. Then he saw him.

Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, in his infamous black-scaled armor. He was old, but still an impressive sight nonetheless. Now, _he_ was a worthy opponent, although Jaime did not long for battle on this night. If only he could reach him—talk sense into him and call a truce. 

Jaime turned to make his way towards the Blackfish, keeping his eyes locked on him—he could not lose sight of him this time, not when he was so close. What Jaime did not expect was to feel a blade pierce clean through his thigh. He screamed out in pain, looking down to see that the wound came from an injured Tully soldier on the ground. Jaime had been so fixated on Brynden that he had neglected to pay mind to the dirt beneath his own two feet. 

The young man was covered in blood from his own mortal wound, but utilized his final moments to ensure that Jaime wouldn’t reach the Blackfish. Jaime had been stabbed and sliced before in combat, but _nothing_ like this. His breath quickened as he stumbled away from the man, sword through his leg and he looked down to see blood pulsating from the wound in time with his heartbeats. Jaime knew he wouldn’t last long with bleeding like this; he’d seen men die on the field from lesser wounds.

It was mere moments before Jaime was on the ground, struggling to pull the blade out, and his hands trembled violently as he haphazardly grabbed at the blade, only slicing his hands in the process. He heard calls of ‘ _The Kingslayer! Jaime Lannister!’_ What did any of it mean? Did it mean help or a blade at his throat to finish him? Hundreds of thoughts rushed through his head as his vision started to cloud.

_My children. Let them grow old and safe. And Sansa. Please. Please let her be safe. Let her be happy. Let her go home. Let her be loved and free and have everything she deserves. Please._

Everything went black.

\--

“Have you heard yet?” Sansa asked, standing in Tyrion’s doorway. She wrung her hands with worry. The news of the battle at Riverrun had reached them only a few days ago and there was no news from Jaime for a long time. At first, she reasoned that it was due to being busy with the Freys and possibly her uncle. Now, Sansa was so sick with worry that she couldn’t eat anything without feeling even sicker to her stomach. 

“No, Lady Stark. I haven’t.” Tyrion ran his hand over his face. He was worried about Jaime as well, but he was handling it much better than Sansa. They hadn’t received any demands as if he’d been captured by the Blackfish. Sansa swallowed hard but nodded, turning around and returning to her room. Grabbing Jaime’s cloak, she wrapped it around herself. It still smelled of him. She laid down on his side of the bed. 

Sansa didn’t go out to the garden with Margaery anymore. Margaery, Mycrella, Shae, and Tyrion tried to get Sansa to eat something. At times, one of them would even only bring lemon cakes just to get something in her system. Shae was only successful in getting her to drink some broth and that was almost by force. Margaery and Myrcella sat with Sansa quietly; sometimes reading one of the books she had lying around aloud.

Myrcella was the most understanding of Sansa’s depression. It wasn’t uncommon for Tyrion to come in with food only to find Sansa and Myrcella laying face to face on Jaime’s cloak, sleeping with their heads close together. Myrcella missed her father, though Tryion doubted that his niece actually knew the truth, but of the three siblings, she _would_ be the one to figure it out. 

In the meantime, Sansa was wasting away each day without news. Everyone could tell that she was mentally absent. The shine in her hair seemed to dull, and her blue eyes appeared to water down. Her collar bones were more prominent than ever. Even Joffrey lost interest in teasing a mouse that didn’t struggle. If Jaime didn’t return alive, he wouldn’t be the only one they lost. 


	18. A Bit of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finds a bit of hope in unexpected places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter than usual after my road trip hiatus! :)

When Jaime was just a boy, one of the few lessons he was allowed to share with Cersei was reading and writing. His favorite part of lessons were the stories. Stories about old kings, dragons, knights, maidens, and heroes. When he was alone, reading came easy and he would read before bed so that his dreams would be filled with all sorts of adventures. Most often, he fancied himself the knight who had to save the maiden who was secretly a princess. 

When he had to read out loud, especially in front of his father, things became complicated. As Jaime watched Cersei excel in writing and reading lessons, the expectations of his teacher, sister, father, and himself crushed him. As he looked at the pages, the letters would rearrange or he’d forget how the word ought to be said. Jaime felt embarrassed and stupid.

Tywin only made matters worse. Without Joanna to interfere, Tywin would strike the boy. He reasoned that if Jaime associated pain with his mistakes, it would cure him of this _affliction_. Needless to say, it did not.

Jaime lost his love for stories and focused all of his attention on training to _become_ one of the stories he loved instead.

He should have asked Sansa to read to him. He wanted to and why didn’t he? The worst case scenario would be that she laughed at him and declined—but at least she would never hit him like Tywin did.

_Was this what death was? Reliving everything. Remembering? So be it. Sansa is always at the end of these stories._

Sansa. She haunted him. He would relive each and every memory he could muster up and at the end of them all, she would be there. She would read to him, she would sit with him after he had slain the Mad King, she stood by his side as he watched Robert Baratheon take the throne, she sat with him in silence at their wedding feast, she knelt in the battlefield at Riverrun and wept and wept. _Where are you?_

_Keep her safe. Keep her safe. Keep her safe._

At the end of everything was Sansa. At the end was—

“…the Blackfish….dead….don’t know…massive blood loss…not good…”

_Well. Now **that** was new._

\--

Eventually, Sansa stopped coming to Tyrion to ask if he had heard anything. Nobody had. Not even Tywin Lannister, of all people. Joffrey resorted to accusing Jaime of failing by dying and dishonoring his house with failure. Tywin barely contained himself around the King and found it easier to do what Sansa did: lock himself in his room to work. Filled with grief, Sansa found herself wandering the castle aimlessly at times. Some members of court had concocted a rumor that Sansa had actually died and it was her ghost floating through the halls.  

One day, Sansa actually found herself outside. The day was overcast, threatening rain with frequent strokes of lightning and rolling thunder behind her, but Sansa walked to the stables regardless. After the incident with Joffrey, she had been much more careful when she rode now. She had worked so hard to improve on her riding. _For him. Completely for him_. Now she hadn’t ridden in several weeks. 

Seeing Sansa down the aisle, Honor nickered to her and bobbed his head. Their relationship had grown exponentially as she grew to trust him as much as she trusted Jaime. _Jaime_. Her chest tightened as she tentatively reached for the horse. He met her half way with his cheek. As if sensing her sadness, he nickered softly to her again.

Swallowing, Sansa opened Honor’s stall door and let herself inside. The stable boy had warned her in the past that stallions sometimes got aggressive and could lash out at humans, but that didn’t matter now as Sansa carefully ran her hand down his neck and through his mane. Her lip trembled as she remembered the first time Jaime lifted her up on him, how he sat close behind her, but rigid. She remembered how they gradually relaxed during the ride. It’s when Sansa first galloped and felt what it was like to fly on the back of a horse. 

Tears formed in Sansa’s eyes as she remembered how Jaime had held her in the water when she first swam in the ocean. Pulling her close to his chest with their faces so close that they could have kissed. The first time she’d allowed her face to get closer trying to cheer him up. It was the first time she realized that she wanted to by kissed by him. 

Sansa leaned her head against the horse’s dappled coat, tears streaming down her face. Every memory flashed through her mind as she cried. Her marriage had been finally turning into a _real_ marriage. She hadn’t felt like a little girl trapped in a cage being circled by lions. She had felt like a valued partner. The night Sansa kissed his forehead after his nightmare—how _she_ held him close, rubbing circles on his back—right now, Sansa remembered it all. 

_Come back to me. Jaime. Come back to me and give me life again. Please, someone, please bring him back to me._

After crying her eyes dry, Sansa found that she was exhausted and practically falling asleep standing up. Taking the saddle pad and the horse’s blanket from outside the stall, she made herself a little nest in the back corner of the stall. Sansa was delirious from exhaustion, and as she stared ahead to the stallion, she could have sworn he was staring back into her eyes. She could have sworn she heard Jaime’s voice say to her: _I’m coming home_. 

There, she slept for some time. What she didn’t know was that every guard and knight in the castle searched for her. Tyrion and Margaery searched frantically for her too. They searched for hours before Joffrey had offhandedly commented on how Sansa loved his uncle’s stupid stallion. The king only said this because he had tried to ride him and gotten thrown. Only Tyrion had kept the animal alive that day.

But, of course, that’s where they found her. Curled up against the wall with the stallion acting aggressive, but not towards Sansa. Anyone who tried to enter the stall was charged at, teeth exposed. Honor’s ears were even flattened to the back of his neck. 

“Kill the monster! He’ll hurt Lady Lannister!” a guard shouted. The commotion roused Sansa from her sleep and she hurriedly stood. For once, the title of Lady Lannister did not immediately throw her thought.

“Easy boy,” she whispered. The stallion’s head whipped around to see her. With a small touch and a quiet word, Sansa gathered her things, folded them neatly outside the stall, and was escorted back inside. Margaery hugged her tightly, seeing that she was safe. Tyrion felt the need to get drunk after all of that, but not before he noticed a flicker in Sansa’s eyes. Was it hope? A flicker of life? He wasn’t sure, but something was different. With a pit in his stomach, he watched Margery take Sansa back to her room. What had that horse changed about Lady Stark that none of them could?

\--

It was as if Jaime was trapped in his own head or _something_. He couldn’t quite figure out where he was or _what_ this was.

He saw Honor and thought, _Okay, this is a good start_. He was riding into battle against the Blackfish and a Tully soldier pulled him from the horse and, _No. No, that isn’t right either_. He had ridden the black mare this time and an enemy soldier cut her down—he was flung from her and it had _hurt_. Jaime was sure this was what had happened; but there was no escaping the memory now that he had let it in—a memory that wasn’t even _correct_.

Jaime was riding on the white stallion into battle with Sansa seated in front of him. _What are you doing **here** , again? _There was an army charging towards them, but then there wasn’t. 

It was him and her on the beach, riding on the back of the stallion. Jaime’s hands placed upon Sansa’s hips, her dress damp from the ocean. She turned her head to look over her shoulder back at Jaime—her hair was damp too, but she smiled. In the soft evening sun, she _smiled_ at him and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Where are you?” Sansa asked quietly placing a hand on one of Jaime’s arms.

“Right here.” Jaime leaned his head forward to place a gentle kiss on her shoulder.

“No. _Where are you_?” She insisted, shivering a little at the kisses Jaime was leaving on her shoulder.

“Oh,” Jaime paused and lifted his head, staring out into the ocean. _Huh_. Suddenly, he couldn’t feel the sun anymore or smell the salt water, but instead it felt dark and he smelled dried blood, sickness.

“I’m coming home.” Jaime opened his eyes in panic.

\--

Whatever had happened to Sansa in that stall had brought hope back to her eyes. All of King’s Landing had been worried about her; the traitor’s daughter was suddenly someone of interest and concern. Letters, food, and flowers were placed at the gates, brought in, and inspected before being taken into Sansa’s room. There were a few hateful letters, but those had been sifted out before Sansa received them.

Despite her comfort, Sansa still got lost in her thoughts though. They often came back to what she saw in Honor’s stall. It was clear in her mind despite it being unclear when it happened. Maybe she was crazy, but she was positive that she had heard Jaime’s voice. She’d seen his eyes. How it was possible she didn’t know, but she’d stake everything on the fact it was Jaime. 

“Sansa,” Margery said as she poked her head into the room and she turned to meet her friend’s eyes. “Is it okay if I take you outside for lunch? If you want to stay, I can have it brought up.” Without speaking, Sansa stood and moved towards her friend, but nodded. She had not been speaking often as of late, but Margaery understood and gave Sansa a soft smile before accompanying her outside.  

The sun was warm on Sansa’s skin. Since she had started eating again, she was starting to look like herself once more. Her cheeks weren’t as gaunt and her eyes weren’t as sunk in. Slowly, but surely, Sansa’s frame was filling back out from the skeleton she had become.

Today, Olenna joined them for lunch. With an appraising look, she took in how frail the girl looked. Between Sansa’s sickness and worrying for Jaime, Sansa looked like she should have been ten years older.  

“Sit child. Eat.” Sansa followed Olenna’s instructions, sitting and taking food from the platters. Margery watched Sansa, seeing that even though she was eating it was in small portions. It didn’t satisfy Margaery, but she couldn’t force her to eat more. The fact she was eating at all was a victory.  

Sansa got lost in thought after she ate a few bites. All she could think about as she looked out onto the sea was Jaime coming home.


	19. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime finally returns home to quite the reunion, but of course, it is bittersweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for your patience! Once again, I read EVERY comment and I appreciate them so much. They give me motivation to continue editing, even when I don't want to or I'm tired. Thank you.

When Jaime woke up, he was lying in a pile of blankets and furs in the back of a cart. He tried to sit up in panic, not knowing where he was or if he had even lived, but winced in pain, lying back again. Clearly, he was still alive if the pain was any indication. The bumps of the road must have been what woke him—each bump sent searing pain through his leg. Jaime looked down, relieved it was still attached and that he could feel it.

Looking up at the sky, it was a clear day and the sky was as blue as—Sansa. He had to write her. She had to know he lived. What if she heard about the battle and then hadn’t heard from him? She must have been terrified—if not for his safety, for her own. If one Frey thought she was behind tipping off the Blackfish, surely others thought the same thing and she could be in danger. Jaime could hear Cersei now, ‘ _The little dove has traitor’s blood and always will—we should have sent her away when we had the chance, but now look. Disastrous.’_

Jaime attempted to sit up again and looked forward to see Lannister soldiers following behind and suddenly, he was desperate to know exactly _what_ had happened. He raised a hand, calling out for the group to stop, and almost instantly, the entire army’s march was brought to a halt. 

It was a great relief to see Bronn hurry to the cart and Jaime smiled upon seeing him. He hadn’t thought about the possibility of Bronn being killed in the battle, but he was joyed to see his friend was safe. “Please, _please_ , enlighten me as to what the hell is going on.”

Bronn gave Jaime a smirk and crawled onto the cart, ordering everyone forward. “Real nice of you to join us _after_ all the fightin’. Typical Lannister shit, if you ask me.”

“Oh yes! Being stabbed through the leg felt simply wonderful. I recommend it actually! I think it’s my favorite thing to do at Riverrun.” Although Jaime narrowed his eyes, it felt good to joke about the situation.

“You get a cart ride all the way back to King’s Landing— _I_ would say it’s a good deal,” Bronn laughed and took a wineskin from his shoulder, offering it to Jaime. He was about to accept when he noticed the bandages around both of his own hands. 

The wounds caught Jaime off guard and so he politely declined. The slices in his hands must have been from trying to grab onto the blade through his leg, and it made Jaime wonder what other injuries he had that he didn’t notice yet. While Bronn began to fill him in on what had happened Jaime discovered his face and body were quite battered from falling off his horse and there was a slice along his neck where a Tully soldier had almost succeeded in cutting his throat open. He would not be easy to look at for some time.

Jaime paused when he heard Bronn talk of the Blackfish; how he was killed rather than captured. “But I gave strict orders to—“

“He wouldn’t be taken alive, Jaime,” Bronn cut him off, knowing the news would disappoint him. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t there, but I’d heard there was no choice in the matter. We at least let his men take care of his body proper.”

Looking down sadly, Jaime knew the news would upset Sansa; as if she needed more tragedy in her life—as if she needed to lose yet another family member.

At the conclusion of his tale, Bronn produced a small brown parcel from his jacket and handed it to Jaime. “On a good note, I picked up this for you.”

Jaime looked up at Bronn curiously, but fought through the pain to open up the brown paper to see a woman’s necklace featuring a pendant of House Tully’s sigil. So Bronn _had_ paid attention to what he was doing in Riverrun. Jaime was appreciative that Bronn had bothered to get it, and he re-wrapped the necklace in its paper. “Thank you.” At least this would be one good thing for Sansa; although Jaime seriously doubted the necklace would matter much once she had heard about her uncle--and Jaime had yet to hear of Edmure's fate. 

The ride back to King’s Landing would be a long one, but despite their losses and injuries, the Lannister army had succeeded in doing what they set out to do. Jaime hoped this would please his father, but he dreaded having to face Sansa with his injuries _and_ the news of her uncles. On the way back, Jaime at least had good wine and Bronn to keep him company and distracted.

\--

Sansa was spending more and more time outside of her room. Today she was sitting outside on Myrcella’s balcony sewing. Myrcella was reading something that Tyrion had given her. Her voice soothed the thoughts than ran through Sansa’s head. Also having her fingers working on something so delicate made it almost impossible for her to think about anything else. 

“Your stitches are so much better than mine,” Myrcella said as she looked over her shoulder at Sansa’s work. “You create much more delicate things than I do.” It wasn’t surprising what she saw. It was a wolf curled up and sleeping with a large lion’s head behind it. The green eyes watching the person ahead of the wolf while his jaw was closed and stern. It was obvious that the lion was protecting the small sleeping wolf from harm. 

“I miss him too.” Myrcella smoothed a stray hair on Sansa’s head. “Hopefully he’ll be home soon.” She hoped that for Sansa’s sake he’d be home _very_ soon. This string of hope and recovery had been a blessing, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that it wouldn’t last without Jaime. 

It wasn’t long before Cersei called Myrcella away, leaving Sansa to her own devices. Deciding that she’d spent enough time in the Keep in the three months Jaime had been gone, she went to the godswood. It was the only place that she felt connected to her Northern blood without feeling guilty for the things she said to stay alive. 

The leaves were red as if to replace the weirwood tree that had been cut down so long ago. She missed the tree with the face of the old gods carved into it. When she was young, it used to scare her but as she grew up she came to understand the significance of it. Even though the eyes did not see her directly, she knew that the eyes of her father’s gods did not leave her. She could feel them on her, watching over her. 

Sansa prayed silently. She didn’t choose any specific words to say in her mind. She just hoped that gods would be able to hear what her heart yearned for. As if they’d heard her before she even knelt down, a voice broke her prayers. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Lady Sta--Lannister,” Pod called out to Sansa, but stood a few feet away; probably in hopes of not startling her. “The Lannister army has been spotted on the outside of King’s Landing. Lord Tyrion sent me to escort you to the courtyard”

For the first time in two weeks, Sansa breathed one word. “ _Jaime_.”

\--

Jaime was amongst the first to enter the gates of King’s Landing and he smiled to see his home again. It was a beautiful day and the air smelled like the sea—a smell he’d missed.

As the horse-drawn cart carrying him and Bronn slowed to a halt in front of the castle, Jaime could not help but feel a little undignified. He should be on top of his horse, strong and golden, waving to his family, friends, and most importantly, Sansa. Could she even see him? Would she recognize him with his bit of a beard, numerous injuries, and lack of Lannister armor? 

Sansa stood between Cersei and Myrcella. When she didn’t see Jaime at the head of the army, her chest tightened with worry. If he wasn’t leading them then he must have been hurt. She stepped forward but Cersei grabbed her wrist painfully. Since her bones had become more prominent due to her weight loss, it hurt that much more. However, Myrcella held her other hand gently squeezing. 

Once the cart was at a full stop, Jaime attempted to stand, looking pained at this small task. With Bronn’s help though, Jaime was able to stand and limp from the cart onto solid ground where he could see them all--the royal family _and_  Sansa. Jaime was relieved to find his feelings for her hadn’t changed as his stomach practically flipped inside his body and a big smile spread across his face.

Then Sansa saw him. His arm was around Bronn’s shoulders and he looked like he’d been to hell and back, but he was alive. Both Cersei and Sansa let out a relieved sigh. Cersei let go of Sansa, walking forward to greet her brother. That’s when Myrcella let go of her hand and nodded, “Go.” 

Sansa ran. Cersei didn’t know what was coming until she had already passed and it was too late to catch the girl. Tears we welling up in her eyes as she could make out the grin on his face. Jaime had come home to her. Battered and bruised, but he was alive and Sansa couldn’t have been happier. 

Without slowing, she extended her arms and jumped into his. Without the armor it didn’t hurt as much as last time. She breathed him in, “Jaime…” Pulling away her hands cupped his cheeks. Her voice was rough and quiet from disuse but still, she spoke, “You came back to me.”

“Of course I came back to you. I promised I would,” Jaime laughed and held Sansa up despite the severe pain shooting through his leg and hands. In that moment, his happiness outweighed any pain.

Tears of relief rolled down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead to his, just like when he left. Except this time, she pressed her lips fully to his. 

Jaime had stared into Sansa’s eyes and thought, _Gods, how I’ve missed you—how I’ve missed these eyes_ ; but then, she kissed him. A real, full kiss on the lips that was spilling over with passion and relief. Jaime was shocked at first, but quickly relaxed into it, clinging to her as he kissed her back.

Sansa’s lips were as soft as they looked and he let his eyes fall closed, not caring who saw them. It was a kiss that was long overdue and that he regretted not giving to her months ago. Jaime used his left hand to run his fingers through her hair as he pulled away slightly to meet her eyes again. The smile was still on his face, but his eyes seemed to say, _What was **that** , and can we do it again? _Although he could feel Cersei’s hateful eyes on them, he hoped the answer would be a yes.

Sansa smiled brightly for the first time in months, nudging his nose with hers. Her hand caressed his face. His beard had tickled her skin. It was a sight to see him, despite his condition. _I knew you would come back. I knew it._ It was insurmountable how much she had missed him holding her and looking into those eyes. 

His lips parted at the unspoken question, but with the tiniest movements, she nodded. This time Sansa would wait for Jaime to kiss her. One hand rested on the back of his neck, gently playing with the hair that had overgrown. It felt surreal that he was there again after so long. Part of Sansa was convinced it was a dream that she would wake up from. 

But she wouldn’t think about it, not when Jaime was right there. Not when he was holding her and asking to kiss her again. _Please. Please kiss me again. Make this real._

Jaime noticed how she watched him—seemingly just as eager as he was to keep kissing in plain view. It pained him to hold her up, but Jaime wouldn’t have traded this moment for anything, and so he kissed Sansa again, in front of the court and even Cersei.

Once again, his eyes closed as he relaxed into the second kiss, tugging Sansa closer to him. The kiss was more than nice, but he longed to be alone with her. To lie with her and kiss her hands, face, and lips over and over again in the privacy of their own quarters. There, Jaime could kiss her without hesitation and with more passion than the critical eye of the court allowed.

Sansa held onto Jaime as he kissed her again. Her breath seemed to drain from her lungs as she relaxed into it. Nothing mattered in the world except him. Her eyes closed with his, shutting out the sound around them: soldiers groaning, soldiers whooping and hollering, and Bronn making some sort of snide comment. All of it faded away into the background until it was silent.  

Bronn looked around at the faces of the various soldiers, court members, and royal family after Jaime and Sansa shared their second kiss. Most seemed happy, touched by the dedication Jaime and Sansa displayed for each other, and he was sure it would be the talk of dinner for several days. Then there was Cersei and Joffrey though. _Someone_ would have to watch Jaime and Sansa’s backs. Bronn was sure Tyrion would put him to the task.

Jaime was first to break away from the kiss, just as quickly as before, much to his own disappointment. This time though, Jaime met Sansa’s eyes again and asked, “Can we go inside? Please?”

When he broke away, all the noise had come rushing back almost overwhelming Sansa’s senses, “Yes.” The desperate excitement in his eyes made her want to kiss him again, but she restrained herself. They had already made a spectacle of their reunion that would increase the rumors of Sansa’s sickness and depression while he was gone. 

“Let’s go inside,” she smiled at him in agreement. There was several things she wanted to show him. Also having him back in their chambers would mean the world to her. It would mean he was home. 

Jaime wrapped an arm around Sansa’s waist, allowing her to support him to the castle as they walked right past Cersei. Jaime gave the Queen a polite nod because any business she or the king had could wait. He limped towards their quarters, biting his lip in response to the sheer agony of walking on his leg at the moment. Through all the pain, Jaime could feel how thin Sansa had become as he kept an arm about her waist. There was much less of her there than before.

Sansa knew that as soon as he put his hand on her waist that he could feel how small she had become. However, she was still strong enough to help him back into their chambers. She would have helped him to bed, but he spun around to look at her shocked. 

“What happened while I was gone?” Jaime asked as they finally reached their rooms. He stared at Sansa in disbelief, but Sansa seemed puzzled at what Jaime meant exactly. “Please, don’t tell me Cersei withheld food from you. I’ll strangle her, I swear it, if that’s the case.”

“Jaime…” Sansa reached out as he went to the bed alone. She wrapped her arms around herself as she slowly walked towards him. “She didn’t withhold food…” Her teeth clenched. “I never recovered from being sick…” She moved across the room and helped Jaime out of his boots, moving them back to his closest. 

He struggled to their bed, lying down immediately, on his back. The relief was instantaneous and his expression softened. Jaime watched Sansa with a type of sadness at her state; but here, in their rooms, Sansa could see him too. The bruises on his exposed skin, the slice on his neck, and his bandaged hands—it was a pitiful sight.

Sansa crawled onto the bed and propped herself up next to him, “Then your letters stopped and news of the battle at Riverrun reached us. I thought not hearing from you meant the worst…” She swallowed hard before meeting his eyes again. “I didn’t handle that news well.” Gently she rested her hand on his cheek, “You can’t imagine how relieved I am to see you.” 

It was clear why Sansa had thinned down so much and it obviously pained her to talk about it. Jaime didn’t want to see her mood fall so soon and so he reached over to his right side on the bed, asking, “And another thing…what is this?” Jaime smiled as he pulled his white, Kingsguard cloak from his side of the bed. “Did youreally miss me _that_ much?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Sansa confessed with a laugh. “The first night I slept with your pillow and when that lost your scent… I found your cloak in your closet.”

He may have been laughing softly at the matter, but the gesture surprised and touched him. It took the doubts he had about whether or not Sansa truly cared for him and tossed them out a window. Jaime reached up to rest his hand on top of the one that touched his cheek and wove their fingers together.

Sansa squeezed his hand and caressed the back of his hand with her thumb. Twisting his hand gently, she looked at the wrapping on his palm. She’d heard her mother had the same kind of wounds. Mentally she made a note to change the bandages for him.  

“I think, after hearing that, I may have a slight idea of how relieved you are to see me,” Jaime teased Sansa as he pulled her hand from his cheek gently and kissed her knuckles as he looked up into her eyes. Despite needing a haircut, shave, and bath _plus_ having many bruises and injuries, Jaime was still charming when he looked at Sansa in such a way with his piercing, green eyes. He sighed softly, thankful to be home and even more thankful that she was here and that she actually wanted _him_ too. 

“You think you have an idea?” Sansa raised an eyebrow. Of course he had an idea. She had run out to him, jumped in his arms despite his injuries, and kissed him twice in front of the whole court. In front of Cersei. And Jaime had kissed her back in front of them as well. 

She wanted to kiss him again so she leaned down, brushing her nose against his. This kiss was more gentle than the one outside. Sansa was careful not to cause Jaime any more more pain than he was already in. 

 _Will this ever not surprise me?_ Jaime thought as he let his eyes fall closed, tilting his head upwards to kiss Sansa back. This was only their third kiss and he found that each time, his stomach seemed to jump. In addition, Jaime was shocked too; shocked that Sansa Stark would willingly kiss a _Lannister_. Even if he was their husband and they _had_ been getting closer and closer when he had left, it was still surprising.

Jaime reached up with his free hand to run his fingers through her hair and he paused, letting his lips hover just above Sansa’s. She sighed as Jaime ran his fingers through her hair. When she was younger, she always asked Robb to play with her hair. She had enjoyed her mother brushing and braiding her hair. Now Jaime’s fingers in her hair made her shudder. 

Jaime’s green eyes met her blue ones and he whispered to her, “I should have kissed you before I left.”

Sansa laughed, teasing him by nudging his nose, “Yes, you should have.” Gods she missed laughing with him. He made her so happy that it was almost as if the past three months hadn’t just happened.

But dare Jaime _tell_ her? Dare he tell her how he’d fallen for her during all those trips to the beach, or when he held her in his arms at night? _Best not ruin it_ , Jaime thought as he kissed Sansa again, tilting his head a little to deepen the kiss this time.

A small noise escaped Sansa’s throat as Jaime kissed her again but deeper this time. Sadly, the kiss, although more intense, did not last long either. She brought herself close to him, pressing up against his side. She rested her free hand on his chest, gently caressing the exposed skin at his collar. Despite her self-consciousness about her body, she just wanted to be close to him. Tonight, Sansa wouldn’t let him go. 

After wrapping an arm around Sansa’s shoulders to keep her close, Jaime rested with her in silence for a while. It was still shocking how small she felt in his arms now, but he knew this would change again as time went on and she had the will to eat regularly again. 

For now, Jaime was dreading talking about what happened in Riverrun. How would he break the news to her about both of her uncles when their reunion had been so sweet? He swallowed a lump in his throat at the thought of it. Or did she already know? Jaime couldn’t tell. Instead, he rubbed Sansa’s shoulder lightly, despite his weak grip thanks to the slices on his palms.

Sansa laid her arm over him, holding him as closely as he held her with her head on his shoulder. Even without actually sleeping, it was the most peaceful rest she had in three months. Just laying there in his arms, listening to his heart and his breathing. He was back and that’s all Sansa cared about. 

“Our poor bed. I really ought to bathe before I sleep here, shouldn’t I?” Jaime could not imagine he smelled very good at the moment from his time on the road. Maybe he could sit in a bathe for a while, and maybe it would be easier to tell her then—when he was vulnerable. Either way, he had to be honest with her—she would find out if she hadn’t already. 

“Probably should. Your dressings need to be changed as well,” Sansa laughed, turning her head to look up at him. “I’ll be able to wrap them for you.” Robb had gotten in so many fights with Theon that she got good at wrapping up and cleaning cuts. “I may be a bit rusty, but I’ll pick it up quickly again.” 

“And I can’t be pleasant to smell either, be honest.” Jaime gave her a small smile, and it was obvious he wasn’t telling her _something_. 

“You don’t smell bad,” Sansa kissed his shoulder. “But you don’t exactly smell great.” She smirked at him. “I’ll get Shae to draw up a bath. Once I get the motivation to get up.” She wasn’t enthusiastic about leaving Jaime’s arms, even if she wanted to take care of him. 

Sighing dramatically, Jaime leaned over to place a kiss on Sansa’s forehead. “I suppose lying around for a little longer won’t hurt anything.” Jaime leaned his head back, his mind filled with all sorts of thoughts—too many. He was already exhausted, but the many, small stresses did him in and soon he was blinking slowly, drifting off to sleep.

Obviously Jaime needed to sleep and as much as Sansa just wanted to stay next to him, watching over him, there were things that still needed to be done. Carefully she slipped out of his arms and off the bed without disturbing him. Quietly she snuck out of the door and looked for Shae. Usually, she wasn’t far and today wasn’t an exception. 

“Could you draw a bath for Jaime, please? I’m going to go to the maester to get new dressings for his wounds.” Shae nodded and headed off to do her job. Getting what she needed from the maester took longer than Sansa thought it would. Maester Pycelle was slow and consistently asked her if she needed anything else. Once she took her items, she hurried back to Jaime. 

In the meantime, a little under two hours later, Jaime woke to sound of water filling the large tub in the next room and he tilted his head to see Sansa had left. He assumed she must have fetched Shae and so he sat up carefully, yawning a little. Jaime’s leg ached to stand on, but he undressed carefully, seeing the rest of his body for the first time in a while. He stepped in front of a full-length mirror in their bedroom, inspecting himself. 

Jaime placed a hand over his cock on the off-chance Sansa walked in. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t ready for her to see him completely naked, but he didn’t question it too much. The sight of the large, dark bruises that covered his body were much more shocking. He turned in front of the mirror to look at the wound that ran through is leg. Whoever did the stitching did a good, precise job and it looked free from infection. Infection was almost always the bigger threat in wounds like this.

With his hand still over his privates, Jaime walked into the bathing room to see Shae leaning over the tub to test the waters with her hand. He looked at her awkwardly, making a straight line with his mouth. They made eye contact and he simply nodded, “Thank you, Shae.” Jaime was still unsure what the handmaiden thought of him exactly.

Jaime was sitting in the water when Sansa came back in, “Good, you’re awake.” She walked closer to the tub and set the dressings aside. “How are you feeling?” Sansa sat down in the chair close to the tub, but not right next to it to give him some privacy. This was the first time she had sat in on one of his baths.  

“Sore.” Jaime smiled up at her and he looked almost childish with his washed, wet hair clinging to his head. “Say…do you have any experience with shaving? I tried holding a razor myself, but my hands hurt and began to shake.” He hoped Sansa would be game for giving it a go since he hated having any bit of a beard. Having a beard always made Jaime think of times he had to ‘rough it’ for some reason or another, and those were not pleasant memories. Besides, he thought he looked neater and cleaner without one.

“Some,” Sansa laughed, putting down the dressings. “Bran and Rickon always wanted a ‘shave’ when Robb got his.” She fell quiet as she thought about her brothers.

Jaime felt a little guilty asking Sansa for this favor since she had just brought back plenty of supplies and was to dress his wounds too. He looked down as he thought about it. “I’m sorry, Sansa. I’m already taking up your time with redressing my wounds, and now I’m asking you to help with shaving. I can have someone else come do it, really.”

Most men would have assumed this was a wife’s _duty_ , but not Jaime. Either he didn’t know any better, or he had different expectations of her.

She got the cream and the razor ready, “It’s alright. I haven’t seen you in months. I’m happy to help.” She wouldn’t have left Jaime anyways. “I’ve had three months of free time. I could use some busy-ness.” 

Once Sansa was sure she had everything, she spread the shaving cream over his face. Her eyes were very focused and her hands were steady from her stitching. Her brothers had wanted to use real razors so Sansa got good at not nicking them. In a pinch, Sansa also had shaved Robb.  

Sansa licked her lips and kept her tongue between them as she concentrated on what she doing. Even as she worked, she could feel Jaime’s eyes watching her. It didn’t take long, but it took long enough that Sansa’s back had started to ache. After wiping his face, she checked her work. “There. Clean-shaven. You don’t look like a vagrant from Flea Bottom anymore.” 

“Thank you, Sansa,” Jaime gave her a smile and sunk back into the tub, watching her from over the edge. It didn’t cross his mind until now, but she had a perfectly good razor in her hands and his throat was laid bare. Only about eight months ago, that would have been a cause for concern, but this time, Jaime had trusted Sansa completely. The thought made him happy, and he closed his eyes as he leaned back in the tub. 

Jaime didn’t stay in much longer and whenever he attempted to get out, he sighed in frustration. “Avert your eyes please, Sansa. Best-case scenario, I make it out of here without incident. The worst case scenario is that I fall getting out of the tub and you see my sad, bare arse on the floor.” The effort it took to stand in the tub pained his leg, but he did it anyways to spare Sansa of having to see him completely naked just yet. Luckily, Jaime did not fall and was able to reach over, wrapping cloth about his waist in preparation for Sansa having to dress his wounds.

Now, Jaime stood in front of Sansa, unsure what to do next or where she wanted him to go. He filled the momentary silence by saying, “So, you said you had three months of free time. What _did_ you do?”

Sansa smiled, glad to see the rest of his face again. With a small smirk laid on her lips as she turned away slightly for him to get out of the tub. She bought a chair over to him and guided him into it. “Well. I did a lot of reading.” Sansa knelt on the floor with the dressings on the small table beside her. Carefully she dried the wound and checked the stitches. They were holding well thankfully. 

“Tell me if this is too tight,” Sansa instructed as she started wrapping his leg. “Margaery and Myrcella took me out into the gardens a lot. I also did quite a bit of sewing.” She smiled at Jaime as she tied off the dressing. “I also practiced riding. I spent quite some time on the trails…” She started on his hands, repeating the delicate yet firm wrapping she did on his leg. 

“I had a hard go at filling up my spare time…” She murmured quietly. What else she did during the time was not productive and not worth worrying Jaime over. 

“You practiced riding?” Jaime smirked and watched her work. Her hands seemed so delicate next to his own and worked so precisely. “Well, I expect you to beat me if we race now.”

“I think I just might,” Sansa smirked. “Though currently it would be an unfair race.”

Once she had finished wrapping the wounds, Jaime got up and held the cloth about his waist, wandering back to their bedroom. She helped Jaime to his feet and followed closely behind in case he needed help. “Thank you, Sansa,” Jaime said to her sincerely as he limped back behind a changing screen to pull some comfortable pants on that he could sleep in. 

As Jaime changed, Sansa did as well. Her nightgown hung more loosely than before so she pulled her dressing gown over it, hoping to make it look better.  

Making his way back to the bed, Jaime got under the covers on his side. He smiled as he settled in, looking over to see Sansa picking up her hairbrush.

From where he rested, Sansa stood in front of the bedroom window where the sky was a rich red as the sun set. The view was beautiful and a few specks of stars could be seen, but Jaime found himself distracted by watching Sansa. Jaime felt so lucky; and while it was awfully nice to be back, there was still the matter or her family that he had to address. Maybe it could wait. Just this one night.

As usual, Sansa brushed her hair but she made sure it was as silky as could be for Jaime. Her hair was still a bit duller than it used to be but soon that would change. Everything would change now that Jaime came home. She turned from the window to see him watching her, “Hey there.” Sansa smiled as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” Jaime answered quietly, smiling when she turned around. 

She lifted Jaime’s hand, gently kissing his knuckles. It saddened to her see the bruising that ran across his chest. She kept reminding herself that at least he was alive. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” Sansa wanted to take care of Jaime and help him. He didn’t need to ask her or feel guilty because she _wanted_ to do it all for him. 

Jaime sighed contently when Sansa kissed his hand and he shook his head. “I’m feeling better now that I’m clean, but I don’t need anything right now. Thank you, though.”

When Sansa lowered his hand from her lips, Jaime’s expression changed slightly. “Actually…on second thought, maybe I do need something.” Jaime bit his lip as he sat up in the bed a little and patted a spot next to him for her to come occupy.

“If you would do me the honor of letting me kiss you again, Lady Sansa,” Jaime smiled playfully; he was unable to resist her. Even if Sansa’s hair was dulled and she was thinner than before, it did not matter. She was actually letting _him_ kiss her and it was no little thing. He wanted to kiss her and hold her and become reacquainted with her all over again after those months away.

Sansa smirked, “It would be my pleasure.” She shifted and came to the spot by his side. All she wanted to do now was kiss him too and he wanted to kiss her back. It made her cheeks heat up as she settled and then looked into his eyes. It was a bit odd since before she had just kissed him, but _now_ , she knew it was coming. 

Her cheeks flushed and she bit her lip. Sansa’s stomach was filled with butterflies and it was not calming down. It reminded her of the night before he left. He had started out tickling her for whatever reason, she couldn’t remember now. When she had ‘fought’ back pathetically, Jaime had pinned her to the bed. She wanted him to kiss her then. 

Part of her couldn’t believe what she was feeling for Jaime. From that first day at the beach, she had begun to fall for him—she understood that now. Sansa just wanted to be around Jaime and never leave his side, especially after he had been gone so long.

When Sansa settled in next to him, Jaime tugged her a little closer, leaning down to capture her lips in his own. He smiled against her lips as his eyes fell closed. Her hair felt so soft under his rough fingertips and Jaime longed for when the bandages would be off and he could make better use of his hands.

Jaime used the hand that rested at her side to pull her a little closer as his tongue pressed against her lips gently. Soon enough, Jaime was tilting his head in order to deepen the kiss as his tongue slid against Sansa’s. He was surprised at how Sansa welcomed the kiss and seemed to _know_ what she was doing. His fingers combed through her hair as he gripped at her side a little with his other hand. Sansa continued to be full of surprises. 

Sansa practically hummed as pulled her closer, kissing him back. One of her hands laid flat against his chest while the other gently cupped the back of his neck. Her eyes fluttered closed as his hand combed through her hair.

Her stomach tightened as he ran his tongue against her lips. She parted her lips, tentatively brushing hers against his. She pressed herself against him as her hand slid from his neck up into his hair. It was still a bit damp from his bath but it was soft. She played with it while weaving it between her fingers and tugging on it slightly. 

As Sansa toyed with his hair, Jaime sucked at her tongue lightly and found himself unable to hold back a small whine. The sound embarrassed even him, and Jaime felt his cheeks burn with shame. He breathed a bit heavier from his nose as he pulled away from the kiss slowly, sighing deeply. Jaime wanted to kiss her longer; he wanted to kiss her jaw, then move to her neck before making his way to her throat and pausing at her collarbone. He would kiss every inch of her body if he was able, and more importantly, if she’d allow, but Jaime knew that for now, he _should_ stop.

There was still much to talk about and so much they _should_  talk about. Jaime closed his eyes as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, trying to regulate his breathing again. He was almost ashamed at how Sansa was able to get under his skin so easily. She was all he wanted. 

Sansa’s breath had been as heavy as Jaime’s. A small whimper left her as he slowly pulled away. She almost followed him, but pulled back embarrassed by herself. Her cheeks were flushed and her heart was beating in her ears. She didn’t want him to stop kissing her. It was the happiest she’d been in months. Her eyes stayed closed, not wanting to end the moment. Jaime’s forehead was warm against her own. 

For a moment, Sansa had forgotten everything that she felt. Everything except him. How he held her closer. How he constantly played with her hair. She’d forgotten about keeping her dressing gown around her so he didn’t see how thin she was. Also about hiding the scars on her wrist. Suddenly remembering it all made her self-conscious again. Her dress had hidden them during the day, but now they were exposed. As long as she held him close, he wouldn’t be able to see them. 

But as Jaime relaxed with Sansa next to him, he watched her with increasingly tired eyes. His fingertips fell from her hair to her shoulder, ghosting down her arms to where he felt something new—a series of light scars that, of course, he would notice. This gave Jaime a new burst of energy as he tilted his head to eye them, frowning. “Sansa, what are these?” He had heard of people harming themselves in such a way before, but the scratches were too sporadic. Someone else did this _to_ her. Jaime would have their head.

Sansa was resting her head on Jaime’s shoulder and had her arm across his chest. She had enjoyed Jaime’s fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps down her arm until they came to her wrist and lingered. Her whole body tensed when he picked it up to look and asked her about it. 

“Be honest,” Jaime insisted, looking concerned. Between her malnourished state, her illness while he was away, and now these light scars, apparently there had been more cause to worry about being gone than he previously thought. Jaime was once again finding himself relieved to be back.

She wanted to slink away, afraid to look up and see what was in his eyes. “Um…they happened the day you left. Cersei grabbed my wrist to keep me from going to you and ripped out of her hand…to get to you.” Sansa kept her head on Jaime’s chest and closed her eyes. She was disappointed that this wasn’t exactly the perfect homecoming. That’s all she wanted when he came home.

Upon hearing it was Cersei’s doing, Jaime’s entire body tensed with anger. _How could she be so cruel?_ Sansa meant her no harm. “I’m sorry she did that to you,” Jaime apologized, trying to relax again. He inhaled deeply and let go of her arm, instead lacing his fingers with Sansa’s. “She shouldn’t be able to get away with these things, but I’m afraid we’ll never be truly safe until we can get out of King’s Landing and then to Winterfell. Even then—there’s the Boltons.” Thinking about all they had to do exhausted Jaime, but while he was away, he had given a lot of thought to what they could do to get the Boltons from Winterfell faster. The faster they could accomplish this, the quicker they might be ‘safe.’

The situation wasn’t completely hopeless though. He would ask Sansa to write to Jon, seeing what support he could offer, but also ask her to speak with other Northern lords who were faithful to House Stark. With all of that and the support Tywin may or may not offer, Winterfell would be hers again, surely. The Boltons did not have many friends. Ultimately, it wasn’t hopeless, and that’s what mattered. 

Despite this, their current situation felt grave, but Jaime blamed that feeling on both of their current physical states. Surely, things would seem better once they were healed. While a sort of silence fell in between them, it seemed like a good time to talk to Sansa about what had happened, despite his earlier apprehension in doing so. Jaime cleared his throat a little and looked down into Sansa’s eyes again. “We uh…we should also talk about what happened at Riverrun too. While we’re on the topic of—unfortunate things.”

Jaime swallowed hard and looked away for a moment. He wasn’t sure how to break this all to her exactly, but he knew it was only right to tell her as soon as possible and the moment had presented itself. “When we were in Riverrun, the Blackfish had led Tully forces against the Lannisters and Freys. According to Bronn and a few others, your uncle Edmure had tried to reason with him to avoid fighting, but it didn’t do any good. He wouldn’t hear it, which I respect, but it did indeed lead to violence.” 

Sansa swallowed hard before pulling head away from his chest to look at him properly. Somewhere she had known this would come up and it wouldn’t be good news—it never was when it came to her family. She squeezed Jaime’s hand for support—for him and for her.

“ _That_ was the battle I was injured in,” Jaime continued. “Bronn later told me that the Blackfish had refused to come quietly—he was killed despite my orders to take him alive.” Jaime spoke quietly, but did not leave any of the truth out. “I am very sorry, Sansa. Your uncle Edmure remains at Riverrun with Lannister men. Bronn said that in a state of delirium, my last orders were to treat the uncle of my wife with respect and honor. I am hopeful for him.”

Sansa’s jaw dropped slightly before clenching when he told her that it was her uncle who started the fighting. She was going to apologize, but Jaime had kept talking. 

It then hit her all at once. Sansa’s chest felt like there was boulder sitting on it. Her eyes dropped from Jaime’s and stared at the bed sheets. She didn’t know her uncles very well, but they were the last remaining family to her. “I…I am grateful that Edmure is alright… I did not know the Blackfish well.” She could have written him. She could have implored him to peace. She could have done _something_ , but instead she chose to do nothing.  _That_ would be what would keep her up at night.

Slowly, Sansa released Jaime’s hand and crawled off the bed. Sansa numbly searched for a new candle and took it to the window. Careful not to burn herself, she lit the candle in the window. When her mother had written her that her grandfather had died, she had done the same. “Was he honored properly?” Sansa looked back at Jaime, tears in her eyes. Her worst fear was that he was treated like her mother was. She knew that Jaime would have made sure it was done properly if he hadn’t been injured.  

A strange feeling came over her despite her grief. She wanted to be near Jaime. She wanted to be held by him while she grieved. So she moved back to him, sliding back into the warm spot that she left and laid her head back on his chest. Sansa felt safe in his arms and that’s when the tears started to escape her eyes. She tucked her face into the side of his neck and cried. 

Jaime’s heart broke as he saw Sansa start to cry and he reached up to stroke her hair back gently in the dim candlelight. He did not wipe her tears away, but let her cry. Between the crying and lighting the candle, it was as if she was finally grieving; not only for the Blackfish, but for her parents and her brother too. “Bronn said he was given back to his own people and honored properly—and I believe him.” After what had happened to Robb and Catelyn, Jaime knew to ask about what had become of the Blackfish.

Sansa nodded in response to hearing her uncle had been honored properly. Her tears started quietly but quickly turned into sobs that racked through her body, but she held onto Jaime as if he was her tether to this world. It was strange to cry so hard for a man she’d never met, so maybe it wasn’t just for him 

Despite this news, the tears still came, and Jaime knew better than to try and stop her. She deserved to cry and to be upset. It felt as though her family was always growing smaller and that it was usually the Lannisters’ fault somehow. He would not dare to tell her to stop or that everything was “okay.” Instead, Jaime held Sansa close and he rubbed her arm gently with one hand while touching her hair with the other.

Sansa had cried when she’d heard her mother and brother had been killed by the Freys, but it was controlled. Even though she was alone when she heard, spies were everywhere in King’s Landing. She remembered the last time she saw her brothers. Robb had smiled, hugged her, and wished her a good life and that he would hopefully get to see her soon. Her mother had held her tighter than she ever had before. Sansa had brushed it off, too excited to be on the road with her betrothed. Her father had given her a doll to try and apologize for killing her direwolf, but she had practically thrown his gift back in his face. 

“It’s…it’s okay to cry, Sansa. You deserve to. You’ve held everything in so long,” Jaime said quietly before leaning in to kiss her forehead. “We’ll get you home. It won’t make any of this right, but we’ll get you home.” 

Her tears came quick and hot. She had been such a stupid girl. All she had thought about was what she wanted instead of what she had. She cried for what seemed like a long time before her eyes dried and she regain controlled her breathing. She pulled back so she could see Jaime’s eyes. She sniffed as she placed her forehead against his while holding his face in her hands. Jaime kept Sansa grounded and helped her calm her breathing, even if he wasn’t completely aware of it. 

“Thank you for telling me…” Her voice was rough. She licked her lips and took another deep breath. It was good for her to get all her emotion out before she had to face Joffrey or Cersei. 

Nodding slowly, Jaime rubbed Sansa’s arms gently, feeling her muscles loosen up as her crying slowed. Thanks to her emotional state and malnourishment, Sansa looked simply exhausted in Jaime’s arms. “You need some rest though, Sansa. Sleep would do us both some good actually.”

Already under the blankets, Jaime slid further down into the bed to prepare to sleep. “I’ll be right here too. If you have any nightmares—I’ll be here.” This made Jaime smile a little at least. Tonight, he didn’t have to feel guilty or shy holding her.

Her eyes were heavy and barely staying open so she just nodded, sliding farther under the furs with him. Sansa gazed back at Jaime, despite the stinging of her eyes. She smiled a little, caressing his cheek with her thumb, “I’m glad you’re back…” Sansa didn’t even bother to shift to her side of the bed, instead opting to stay in Jaime’s arms. 

“Sansa. Um…you _never_ have to feel guilty for crying in front of me, okay? And…” Jaime paused, hoping he was saying the right things. Regardless, he meant every word. “…I’m here. You can talk to me about anything…how you’re feeling or just, anything. Don’t ever feel bad about it, Sansa. You’ve been holding in everything for too long.” Jaime quieted now and looked into her eyes. His eyes were not full of pity, but affection, and maybe even love.

“Thank you, Jaime… that means,” Sansa bit her lip as more tears welled up, “it means a lot.” Despite him saying that she shouldn’t feel guilty for crying in front of him, she didn’t want to cry anymore. She’d done so much crying during her time here and during his absence. At one point, Sansa thought that she had run out of tears. Apparently, that was impossible. 

So she snuggled next to Jaime, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’ll remember that. You can do the same. I want to be open to you,” she murmured sleepily. Sansa’s hand rested on the middle of Jaime’s chest just like they had done before. It almost felt as if he had never left. Almost. 

“Thank you,” Jaime answered quietly as he began to drift off to sleep.

That night, Jaime slept soundly and embraced Sansa through the whole night, not stirring once. Despite the pain, it was the best sleep he had in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably the toughest chapter to edit. The emotion was strong, and there was a lot of mental and vocal back-and-forth...there was just A LOT. And if it seems like the chapter was long--it was! Almost 10k words alone. Hope you enjoyed it though and celebrated their first REAL kiss. It took THIS long and I thank you for following the journey.


	20. A True Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Sansa come to a conclusion after a mildly traumatic dinner with the royal family. Later, the pair comes to another conclusion once Sansa makes a confession to Jaime.

Jaime was in such a deep sleep that he was not surprised to find he’d finally woken up around mid-day. Luckily, neither he nor Sansa had any engagements until dinner with the royal family and court.

Until it was time for dinner, they would have to spend the day cleaning and changing Jaime’s bandages again before Sansa set out to find someone in the castle who could cut Jaime’s hair. Although she had shaved him adequately, they needed someone to trim his hair as it was before so that he would look well-groomed for the dinner. 

By dinnertime, Jaime had managed to look like himself again despite the injuries. Even with a badly damaged leg, he managed dress in a fine outfit that was complicated to put on for a good day, let alone when injured; but it was one of Sansa’s favorites.

Sansa prepared for dinner behind the screen. Today she had chosen one of the dresses she had commissioned for Jaime. It was black, which was appropriate since she mourned her uncle, but the gold lace overlay was what she wore it for. Jaime had mentioned before that he liked seeing her in gold. She just hoped that was still the case. Sansa wore her hair down but the braids in the back were Tully. It was so subtle that she doubted anyone would notice.

Once she was sure she was ready, Sansa walked out from behind the screen smoothing the lace. She looked up and met Jaime’s eyes, “I had this made while you were gone… I hope you like it.” Seeing Jaime wearing her favorite outfit made him almost look like he hadn’t been injured, especially with his hair cut properly again. The sight of him made her heart flutter.

When Sansa walked out in her new dress, Jaime was speechless. She looked like the Sansa he had left a few months ago, and the dress—the dress fit her perfectly and suited her so well. Sansa always looked good in black, even if it meant mourning this time, but it was the gold that really stood out. Jaime did love her in black. “Hope I like it?”

Smiling, Sansa closed the gap between them. It still amazed her that Jaime was back at her side and their relationship was stronger than before.

Jaime raised an eyebrow and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her close to his side, gently, “I love it.” He grinned before kissing Sansa’s forehead, starting to walk out of the door with Sansa.

As they walked, Sansa thought about how peaceful she’d slept that night. She’d woken up before Jaime, but stayed in his arms until he had awoken also. She highly doubted the court expected them to show after their emotional reunion.

Jaime walked slower towards the hall and his steps must have pained him, but with Sansa at his side and wearing her new dress, he had to smile. It was funny; this Jaime who laughed, smiled, and was playful with Sansa was much different than Ser Jaime the knight. Not many people knew he had this whole side to him, but Sansa was seeing it more and more. He had shown it during their time at the beach and here he was again.

“When we get back tonight, remind me, I’ve got a surprise for you.” Jaime used his elbow to nudge Sansa’s side lightly as they walked into the dining hall to take their usual seats at the table, Joffrey looked entirely too pleased to see them.

Sansa smiled with him, letting him set the pace as they walked to the dining chambers. “A surprise?” She raised her eyebrows. What surprise could he possibly have now? Some things popped in her head, but all fled when they opened the doors to the dining room. Even though Sansa was happy to be back together, she was not happy to be having dinner with Joffrey and Cersei again. 

“How great it is you are able to join us, uncle, and you, aunt.” Joffrey seemed amused to call Sansa his aunt; if only he knew that her proper title was also _mother_.

Despite Joffrey’s tone, Jaime bowed his head and pushed Sansa’a seat in before taking his own. “It’s wonderful to be back at this table, your Grace.”

If Sansa didn’t have the self-control she did, she would have rolled her eyes at Joffrey, “It’s good to be back, your Grace.” She sat down, waiting for Jaime to sit by her side. Once again, she had him by her side to face his family. They were stronger together. 

The food before her made her stomach rumble. For once, Sansa had an appetite. It felt strange, but with a deep breath she started eating. Cersei eyed her from across the table, and if looks could kill, Sansa would be dead. 

“How’re you feeling, little dove?” Cersei asked over her wine glass. “It’s been a long time since you’ve joined your family for dinner.” 

“Well, she’s been sick,” Tyrion answered, narrowing his eyes at Cersei before taking a generous sip of his wine. “It’s understandable though. She was in bad shape.”

“Perhaps if she hadn’t miscarried,” Joffrey added with a smirk on his face. Jaime knew the “miscarriage” would be a hot topic, but he didn’t think it would be brought up so soon.

Jaime opened his mouth to respond, only to have Tyrion jump in again, “Speaking of which! I’ve been trying so very hard to figure out exactly _what_ happened. I do fancy myself to be a man of science albeit an amateur. Cersei, _you_ were with her the night before—did you notice anything amiss?”

Cersei froze in place. She had been cutting her meat, but stopped dead in her tracks to stare daggers into Tyrion. “I’m not a maester, Tyrion. What insight could I possibly offer?”

That’s when the thought struck Jaime— _Cersei_. _Could she possibly be behind this?_ Jaime knew she had knowledge of moon tea and how to use it— _would she really stoop so low?_ Suddenly, it became harder for Jaime to eat.

Sansa kept her head down. She remembered being sick, even if it was just a blur of pain and bright light. Her hand reached out to his under the table, lightly squeezing his hand. If they had truly lost a child, then they would need to be united. Joffrey’s comment hurt, even if she hadn’t been pregnant. How could it have been her fault if she had lost the child? Joffrey had always been cruel, _but this_?

What was she supposed to say? Sansa didn’t have anything, so she just stared blankly between Tyrion and Cersei. She was about to take a drink of her wine, but she stopped, looking down into the drink. She’d shared something with Cersei that night. It had been so blurry that she had nearly forgotten. 

She glanced at Jaime, meeting his eyes. She swallowed hard and set down her wine. Sansa had lost her appetite, so she just pushed her food around her plate. 

Tyrion knew his insinuation had sunk in with both Jaime and Sansa, exactly what he had wanted, and so he answered, “I suppose you aren’t a maester. Never mind, sweet sister.”

Jaime continued to eat, although he ate slower now. After Tyrion’s words had sunk in, he couldn’t shake the thoughts from his mind. Cersei _would_ do something like this if she believed Sansa carried his child. Her bitterness had only served in making Sansa sick though, and now, Jaime dreaded the talk he would have to have with Cersei.

The meal went on in silence until Tywin spoke up now, “Well, on that note, I expect that you two will be trying again now that you’re home, Jaime?”

The invasive question made Jaime inwardly cringe, so he could only imagine how Sansa felt. Jaime looked up at his father and gave him an answer that would buy them more time. “Perhaps once I’m fully healed.”

“Then I pray for your swift recovery,” Tywin almost cracked a smile at this. Now, it was Jaime’s turn to reach over to give Sansa’s arm a gentle, supportive rub. He _needed_ to get her out of King’s Landing and away from his family.

Sansa took a drink from her wine. Just what she needed was Tywin insisting that they try again to get pregnant. What was she? Some sort of broodmare? The thought made her ill. However, Jaime’s hand on her arm was comforting. He wouldn’t treat her that way, she was sure of that. 

“As well as I. The…loss of our child did take a lot out of me,” Sansa nodded. She wasn’t at her healthiest so carrying a child would need to wait. It was obvious to everyone that she had thinned. If Jaime could see it, then everyone else could too. The thought made her take another bite.

“Are you actually going to eat or are you just going to push it around? If not, we’ll feed it to the hounds,” Joffrey pointed his fork at her. Sansa froze in her chair. It made the food in her mouth hard to chew and swallow. Obviously, Joffrey had missed his punching bag. 

Between Tywin’s comments about getting Sansa pregnant, the thought of Cersei poisoning Sansa in the back of his mind, and Joffrey making backhanded remarks, Jaime had enough. He glares at the king and said, “She’s eating just fine. In fact, where are your manners? You may be a king, but it is not becoming of you to comment on the dining habits of your guests.”

Jaime knew he would probably pay for that comment somehow down the road, but for now, it had to be said. He wanted Sansa to be left alone. Joffrey was rendered speechless for a moment, but then nodded, “You’re right, uncle. I forgot my manners. My apologies, Lady Sansa.” It was a part of Joffrey’s game—to play the gentleman to fool those around him into thinking he was half-decent, if even for a moment.

Sansa’s eyes widened as Jaime rebuked Joffrey. It wasn’t often that someone told Joffrey what they were thinking, but it always surprised her. She watched Joffrey calculate his answer and apologize. She nodded, seeming to accept it even though she knew better. It was all a game to him. 

Luckily, Jaime wasn’t a fool and knew it was an act. Regardless, he turned his attention to Sansa and gave her a small smile. Jaime noticed that out of the food on Sansa’s plate, she ate all of her buttered sugar snap peas, so she must have liked those. Spearing a few pea pods on his fork, he lifted them towards her, smiling more. “Here, have mine, Sansa,” Jaime spoke softly, knowing the display would probably get people talking when really, he just wanted Sansa to eat what she liked and for Joffrey to leave her alone.

Jaime’s act surprised her, holding the peas on his fork towards her. Sansa’s cheeks flushed as she let him feed them to her. She covered her mouth delicately, side eyeing Jaime. The action was sweet of him. It made eating what she liked much easier. The rest of the table was silent, unsure what to make of this show.  

She could feel the eyes on her, but she only looked at Jaime. She swallowed, “Thank you.” She chewed on the inside of her lip, wanting to kiss him for this, however, now was not the time and place. It was enough to kiss him in front of all of the court. Cersei may launch herself over the table if she did it here. 

“Of course.” Jaime and Sansa were quiet as they ate some more of their dinner. People began to speak again as wine was shared and Jaime was able to talk to Tyrion a little before he and Sansa left the hall for the evening. Since Jaime’s leg still pained him, he took Sansa’s arm as they walked back to their quarters.

“I am truly sorry for how my family speaks to you, save for Tyrion,” Jaime spoke quietly.

“I know,” Sansa rubbed his arm gently. Part of her was use to the abuse and expected it. That’s how she had survived for so long without following in her father’s footsteps. Despite what others may think, she had armor and wore it well. 

Jaime looked over at Sansa sadly as he limped to their room with her. By now, he no longer had stitches, but any open wound he had was in the awkward stage of healing where it was red and raw, looking as though it could open again at the slightest pressure. He reckoned that he would no longer need the bandages soon, but it would be wise to keep the area clean and to not exert himself. 

When they walked into their quarters, Jaime smiled, seeing that Shae had lit a candle on a table set for two. There was a bottle of wine and two goblets, but a package sitting at the spot where Sansa usually sat. He was glad that Shae had followed his directions—clearly, the handmaiden didn’t hate him as she once did.

“What’s this?” She breathed, looking at the table. “Is this what I was supposed to remind you about?” She turned to look at him, seeing the glint in his eye. It was romantic; definitely making her heart flutter. She stayed by his side until they were next to the table. A smile laid on her face as she glanced at him then the box. “Should I guess what it is?” She tilted her head to the side. 

It wasn’t big, so a dress was out of the question. “It could be a hair piece, a broach, a necklace, a ring, earrings, or a bracelet.” Carefully she picked up the package, turning it carefully in her hands just in case it was fragile. “Can I open it or are you going to drag it out?” 

“Go ahead, open it,” Jaime laughed, standing close to Sansa. He hadn’t expected her to try and guess what it was.

“Oh! The uh…candles and wine and stuff—I may have told Shae to set it up, not thinking she would _actually_ do it. It’s a little over-the-top, I know.” Jaime shrugged and watched Sansa again, smiling. “I’ll have to thank her anyways, but go on.”

Jaime was thrilled for Sansa to open her gift since inside was the necklace he had custom made for her at Riverrun.

She opened it carefully, a bright smile at her face. Sansa liked getting surprises like this. However, her breath caught when she saw the Tully fish laying in the tissue paper. “Jaime…” She picked up the pendant as her bottom lip trembled and she blinked back tears. Her thumb ran over the sigil, feeling the cool metal under her fingers. 

The necklace was silver, made of metals more commonly used in the North, and so it was a more expensive choice in Riverrun, but that didn’t matter. The chain was thin and connected on each side to support a Tully trout; it was the “something Tully” she had asked for. In light of what had happened to the Blackfish, Jaime was glad Sansa had it.

“Could you help me put it on?” Sansa unclasped it, moved her hair out of the way, and turned her back to him with either end of the necklace in her hand to hand back to him. It reminded her of when she asked him to lace up her dress. It was just as intimate, but it didn’t make Sansa feel as vulnerable now.

Maybe it was because since Jaime returned, their relationship had changed. It wasn’t just that they kissed and wanted to be kissed. Maybe Sansa had accepted that she wanted Jaime in her life. That she didn’t care if he was a Lannister, because she didn’t just want him in her life; she _needed_ him. 

Jaime helped Sansa put the necklace on and he smiled as she turned around. It was beautiful on her. “I’m fairly certain that only _you_ could make a trout look beautiful.” Jaime’s eyes widened a bit after he said it and his face tinted red with embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to insult the Tully sigil.

Reaching over, Jaime took both of her hands in his and looked down at her. “Really though, it suits you.” Suddenly, Jaime a little silly that he had the necklace made using a silver-colored metal whenever her wedding ring was an antique gold with a garnet stone. Who knew—maybe one day he’d have a new wedding ring made for her. A wedding ring that _meant_ something and that he could present to Sansa when they were in Winterfell; but _that_ was getting way ahead of himself.

Instead, he brought her left hand up to kiss the ring and sighed contently. Between the necklace and the new dress she had made, she looked absolutely stunning, and Jaime could have stood there and told Sansa how incredible she looked all night, but he knew he shouldn’t overdo it either. Besides, they needed rest sometime.

Sansa smiled at him, even after his face flushed and he took her hands, “Thank you. I love it.” She really did and doubted that she would take it off any time soon. The thought that Jaime put into his gift was much more than she thought when she had responded to his question about what she wanted from Riverrun. 

Sansa stepped closer to Jaime as he kissed her hand, except she reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. How could she tell him how she felt? That was something that Margaery hadn’t taught her how to do. Instead she cupped his cheek, gently caressing it with her thumb while she gazed into his green eyes.

Just looking at her, Jaime could make her chest constrict. How his piercing eyes softened as his smile reached them. When his closed lipped smile broke way to a toothy one as they joked. How his eyes crinkled when he laughed when she had played with him in the water. Sansa had missed Jaime much more than she had originally anticipated.

“I was going to be thrilled if you simply _liked_ it, but loving it is even better.” Jaime tugged Sansa towards him gently and pulled her against his chest to embrace her. He looked down, admiring the dress she wore that evening; it was a truly splendid gown. While it only slightly drug on the ground, the gown left her pale shoulders exposed, practically begging to be kissed.

Still, Jaime held back, instead leaning down to leave a tender kiss on her right shoulder only, then on her cheek before staring out into the starry night with contentment. Shae must have had the candle burning for a while because it was reaching the bottom and the light growing dimmer in the room.

“We should go to bed, shouldn’t we?” Jaime wasn’t sure if he was suggesting that to Sansa, or telling himself this to distract from admiring Sansa _too_ much. Regardless, Jaime hoped she would wear the dress again, and secretly dreaded being, but also hoped to be, asked to help her out of it for the night.

Jaime’s lips against her shoulder had made her shiver, as well as the kiss on his cheek. She turned towards him as her nose brushed his. They’ve kissed so why did her stomach want to flip when their lips were so close. Now all she could think of was pressing against his soft lips. Instead she pulled away slightly to nod towards the wine. 

“We can, but if you’re feeling up to it, we could drink some of this wine that Shae left out for us. It’d be a shame not to drink it,” Sansa looked at the bottle. It looked like the sweet wine that she liked; of course Shae would get that bottle. She looked up, meeting Jaime’s eyes as her arms wound around his neck. The whole scene was quite romantic. 

Of course, she didn’t want to go to bed so soon. They’d spent most of the day in bed and Sansa wanted to be with Jaime a bit longer, but if he still needed rest it could wait. As much as she wanted to stay up with him, she also wanted him to heal. 

Even if Jaime’s leg did pain him, he wouldn’t deny Sansa this small request. He placed his hands upon her waist and smiled as their noses touched. “You’re absolutely right. We shouldn’t let the wine go to waste now that it’s been opened. But do you mind if I sit back on the bed while we drink? I promise not to spill any,” Jaime laughed. If he could sit back in the bed and drink, then his leg probably wouldn’t bother him as much. Also, Jaime had to admit, there was something romantic about the idea of them both sitting in bed wearing their fine clothes and drinking wine.

“I won’t spill a drop!” He added, trying to sweeten the pot. To emphasize his point and the allure of the idea, Jaime grinned as he gave her waist a gentle squeeze, finally leaning in to place a light kiss on her lips.

Sansa kissed him back, breathless, “Not one drop.”

“Maybe we could even come up with a game. Margaery told me you were smart—that you like playing games with her.” Jaime blushed a little at this fact. He hadn’t meant to let it slip, but he had spoken to Margaery before their wedding. Jaime had _tried_.

Before the wedding, he had a private meeting with Margaery, knowing she and Sansa were good friends. Admittedly, Margaery seemed displeased with the match, but offered information anyways; she wanted to see Sansa as happy as she could be and perhaps, she thought it was wise to help her intended’s uncle, or father, depending who you asked. Margaery had told Jaime some information about her—her fondness for lemon cakes, how she like games, pretty things, and walks in the gardens—how she missed Lady and home most of all; that Sansa was much smarter than she led on, and she had shared some insight on conversations they had. Sansa may have been embarrassed to know this, but Margaery told Jaime how Sansa had dreamed of a wedding to a true knight or lord who was kind and good; Margaery was also sure to tell Jaime that he was not that knight or lord.

Her eyebrows raised, “Oh, did she tell you that?” Her face flushed, remembering her  _“lessons”_ with Margaery. For a moment, she had thought her friend had told her husband about it. If she could help it, Jaime would never find out what happened. She found herself feeling guilty as she took the goblets and wine to the bed. It wasn’t as if she didn’t do it with Jaime in mind, but even justifying it didn’t make her feel better. 

Once Jaime was settled, Sansa handed him a goblet and settled in at his side. Her dress fanned out as she tucked her legs close to her. “So what game to do you have in mind?” She smirked over the edge of her cup. 

It was nice, sitting next to Jaime who was still in his nice clothes while the rising moon made his golden hair look silver. She held her goblet in her lap, taking a moment to take him in while leaning against the headboard. 

Jaime glanced down at Sansa, smiling as he watched her. He brought his wine to his lips to have a drink. She looked even lovelier in the moonlight—her pale skin almost seemed to glow and it contrasted beautifully with her hair. The moonlight also reflected off the gold on her dress and the Tully necklace, making it shine brighter.

Even if Sansa was talking about games, she looked troubled at the mention of Margaery. Jaime assumed it was because of the upcoming wedding; Sansa probably worried for her friend. Who wouldn’t? Joffrey may have played the gentleman sometimes, but everyone knew he was an absolute monster behind it all. Margaery was in danger. The games could wait. Jaime didn’t want Sansa keeping her feelings in if she wanted to talk about her worries.

“Are you okay? You looked sad when I mentioned Margaery,” Jaime spoke quietly, reaching over with his free hand to lift Sansa’s head gently so she could look in his eyes as they both rested against the headboard. “Remember what I said before—you don’t have to keep anything in around me.” After saying those words, Jaime closed his eyes and leaned forward to kiss her again, being gentle as he did. He wanted her to feel calm because right now, she looked deeply troubled.

Sansa felt ill as he lifted her chin, bringing her eyes to his. The words were stuck in her throat as he pressed his lips against hers. Her lip started to tremble as she pressed her forehead against his, squeezing her eyes shut. “I can’t keep secrets from you…” She could already feel her heart breaking at the thought of seeing the hurt in Jaime’s eyes. Of them moving apart or Jaime pushing her away.

With every ounce of strength she had, she opened her eyes and locked them onto his. “Margaery… well, the reason is that while you were gone. We talked about my sickness and she found out that I wasn’t actually pregnant.” Her heart was beating out of her chest. “And that we hadn’t actually…” She tilted her head to state the obvious. “She asked why. I was honest with her.” 

She could see Jaime trying to understand what she was saying. Sansa clenched her teeth as she wanted to look away, but she kept her eyes on his. She deserved to see what damage she had done to him and to their marriage. “Then she asked if I wanted to with you. I told her I didn’t even know what do to… then we… she…” Sansa swallowed hard, “We did things. I feel so guilty because I care for you and I want to be with you. I can’t stand the thought of hurting you like this. It’s eating me up inside. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” The goblet in her hands trembled. 

“Please,” she begged, “don’t push me away. Don’t leave me.” 

As Sansa spoke, Jaime simply listened. He did not interrupt; he did not look happy nor sad, or anything, really. It was almost as if he wasn’t surprised. In fact, his stomach leapt into his throat as he heard Sansa say, ‘… _I care for you and I want to be with you._ ’ What did it all mean?

Sansa looked worried, terrified even. Jaime, on the other hand, reached over to pour himself a gratuitous amount of more wine; perhaps it was his only tell. He stared at Sansa as he took a drink from it, almost draining it. Finally, he spoke, “I’m not going to leave you. I made a promise.” He didn’t mean it as a slight, but it could have been taken for one. Jaime only meant that he vowed to protect her, to take her to home. It was an oath he would keep to both Catelyn and Sansa. “I vowed to keep you from harm and to take you back to Winterfell. I will keep that promise.”

Jaime continued, “And…I can’t say I’m surprised. Sansa, _you_ —you were forced to marry me. You don’t belong to me. Life doesn’t work that way. Some may think it does, that after marriage a wife _belongs_ to her husband, but it doesn’t. You know that, right? I….” He paused again, drifting off into deep thought before saying, “I’m happy for you. You deserve to have an experience like that with someone you actually _chose_.”

At this, Jaime smiled sadly. The worst part of it all, was that he meant every word. He had heard Sansa when she begged him not to go, and said that she wanted to be with him, but Jaime didn’t want her to feel _obligated_ , or feel as though her only way home was to play the part of his devoted wife. Jaime cared for her so deeply that he wanted her to be _free_ , to be _happy_ , even if it wasn’t with him. That’s what mattered most here because he truly loved her. Almost six months into what was supposed to be an unhappy marriage to form an alliance and he had already been head over heels in _love_ with her.

Cersei taunted Jaime in the back of his mind, ‘ _That smirking whore from Highgarden. She’ll take everything from us. Just wait. She won’t be satisfied until we’re in ruins. We should rid of her first before she does too much damage._ ’ Jaime had disagreed with Cersei then and he still did; but there she was regardless, almost as if to say ‘ _I told you so, Jaime_.’

There was a small amount of relief when he said that he wasn’t going to leave her, but the way he said it was removed. It shattered her heart. Every fiber in her body wanted to reach out to him, but she just held her goblet tightly. If it were glass, it would have shattered already. 

“Jaime.. Yes, I– I know that, but…” Her lip trembled as she tried her best to keep from crying. She didn’t deserve to cry because she had caused this. Sansa wanted him to understand that she wanted him. Margaery was her friend, but… she didn’t love Margaery. Not the way that she loved Jaime. The realization broke her resolve and tears filled her eyes. She was in _love_ with Jaime Lannister.  

“I meant what I said.” The tears spilled over as she shifted nervously. Sansa licked her lips, “I want to be with you. _You_ , Jaime. I’m not saying that to get back to Winterfell. I’m not saying that to make you keep your promises. I don’t want anything… but you.” She felt like she was going to throw up the contents of dinner and the wine. She didn’t know how this had happened. Had it been all the visits to the beach? How he held her at night? Sure, she had missed him and they had clearly grown closer—but _love_?

She closed her eyes, trying to control herself, but it only seemed to make her cry more. Sansa opened her mouth to speak again, but no words came out. Only a hiccup from her crying came out. She hung her head as her body went limp and her shoulders shook. For the first time she since her father’s death, she was open and vulnerable without her armor while handing Jaime the means to absolutely destroy her. 

No matter how he felt at the moment, Jaime couldn’t stand to see her like this—not when she had just been so painfully honest with him. It wasn’t fair to her. He put aside his goblet hastily and took hers, setting it aside too. Wrapping his arms around her fast, Jaime tugged Sansa up against his chest, wincing a bit as she rested across his leg. It felt too symbolic—him pulling someone closer to him and then being in physical pain for it. _Cersei_. _His children_. _Sansa_. Perhaps one of them would finally do him in one day.

Sansa gasped as he pulled her to his chest. She had expected him to push her away and leave her bitterly alone like everyone else in her life. Now, she clung to him tears pouring down her cheeks and onto his nice clothing. She heard his voice through her sobs, but it was more of the same, nothing to bring her comfort. 

Ignoring the pain, Jaime reached up to touch her hair gently, trying to hush her as he closed his eyes and rested his head on top of hers. “Sansa,” he began, “Sansa, I…I won’t leave you, I said that.” But they both knew that it wasn’t good enough. It was too vague. Right now, Sansa couldn’t bear vague.

Jaime may love her, but he couldn’t admit that, not aloud, not _yet_. It didn’t feel right just yet. Still, he held Sansa as she cried, just as he did the night before. Silently, he hoped this wouldn’t be a new tradition for them; it hurt him to see her so sad. “Winterfell can burn for all I care.” She looked shocked when he said that, but he shook his head, continuing to talk, “I mean—my _father_ wants Winterfell. I only wanted it for you. I only promised to get you home because I wanted to see you happy again—where you belong. It means nothing to me—what mattered was your happiness.”

As Jaime spoke softly, he had a tone to him that sounded defeated. Clearly, he was wounded that night; but what he said was a lot to take in. If meant what he said, it meant that he had wanted her happiness from the beginning. Every decision he had made was made with Sansa’s well-being in mind. Jaime never wanted this marriage any more than she did, but he had wanted to make it bearable for her, and now, he loved her.

 _Winterfell can burn for all I care_ , the phrase shocked her out of her hysteria, looking up at him with wide eyes until he explained. His words sunk into her like a kind of balm, smoothing over all of the cracks and sharp points of her heart. Jaime wanted her happiness. Her happiness that wasn’t found in King’s Landing until he came into her life. Until he made it a priority. Until he had made _her_ a priority. 

There was only one solution to such a situation. Jaime pulled away from her slightly, giving her a sad smile. “Sansa Stark.” _Not Sansa Lannister_. _No, that wasn’t her, not truly_. “I’m Jaime Lannister; and it’s a pleasure to finally meet _you_.” He lifted her hand to his lips and looked into her eyes like he loved to do. In his mind, they were not really married. Not yet. Hells, he had even thought about the new ring he would one day present her. This would be a new beginning for both of them.

She sniffed, returning his smile with a shaky breath, “And I you, Jaime Lannister.” She held his gaze until his lips met her knuckles, it was then they drifted closed. Sansa laid her head back on his chest and she would stay there, until he said differently or moved her away. Jaime’s arms around her acted as a cast, keeping all the broken pieces in the right places until they could heal properly. 

Sansa’s eyes stung behind her lids while the events of the night ran through her head again and again. Everything she expected to happen and everything that surprised her. Jaime hadn’t left her alone. He was still holding her, comforting her even though she had done the damage. This was the man that her father had promised her: _someone who was worthy of her. Someone brave, and gentle, and strong_. 

Jaime Lannister. He wasn’t the high lord her father had in mind… but he was her true knight. Sansa had found him in the most unexpected of ways, but she had finally found him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much for reading and the comments. Knowing people are reading this and enjoying it is what makes me keep posting, so thank you.


	21. The North Remembers Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime wants to ensure that things between him and Sansa are okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day?! :D I am only doing this because honestly, I feel like 20 and 21 are two separate parts that belong together. Enjoy!

Together, Jaime held Sansa in silence in the darkening room. As the candle melted down to nothing, the moonlight flooded in as the clouds cleared. He said nothing as he touched her hair, rubbed her arms and shoulders, and clung to her protectively.

Sansa had calmed down while resting against him. The quiet that surrounded them was heavy though and she couldn’t help but let her doubt start swirling in her head. What if Jaime was only comforting her because that was his duty? What if he only stayed because he said he would versus actually wanting to stay either? Still every movement he made contradicted her doubts: smoothing her hair, rubbing her arms and shoulders, holding onto her as tightly as she held him. Jaime’s heart beat steadily and soon Sansa’s heart beat in rhythm with his.

Everything was too quiet, and Jaime needed to fill the silence. She had to know he wasn’t upset—sure, he was a little saddened, but Sansa had said she cared for Jaime, that she _wanted_ him. He thought about a song he had heard in Riverrun that he had meant to share with her. The farther north they had traveled, the more he heard the song, mostly in taverns; Jaime hoped he could remember it all.

It went to the tune of the “Rains of Castamere” and so he begun to hum it softly.

Sansa couldn’t help, but start to drift when a rumble started in Jaime’s chest. It made her stiffen as she recognized the tune. Was this her punishment? Listening to the “Rains of Castermere”? She tensed at the tune. Jaime must have shocked her more as he began to sing:

_The cold winds rise  
_ _And night grows dark  
_ _As winter’s coming near_

_You lords of South  
_ _In castles strong  
_ _Shall know in time true fear_

_Winter Is Coming_. Her house words. The words her father said so often that Sansa had recited them in her sleep as a small child. The meaning had been lost on her for so long, but it was plain to see. Winter was the time for the Starks. _Winter is hard but the Starks will endure. They always have_. 

Here, Jaime paused, trying to recall the words. Surprisingly, his voice wasn’t half bad either. He soon continued:

_A coat of snow  
_ _And fangs of ice  
_ _A wolf has claws too_

_I am the North  
_ _Fierce and cold  
_ _And I won’t bow to you_

_And so she spoke,  
_ _And so she spoke  
_ _That girl from Winterfell_

_And now the snows  
_ _Fall o'er your bones  
_ _The North remembers well_

This wasn’t the song she had anticipated. Relaxing ever so slightly, she listened. Sansa seemed calm by then, knowing the song was not actually “The Rains of Castamere,” but it had to of come to a shock that there were people singing a song about her. It was as if the North was waiting for her to return—for the Starks to return; and so Jaime concluded:

_And so she spoke,  
_ _And so she spoke  
_ _That girl from Winterfell_

_And now the snows  
_ _Fall o'er your bones  
_ _The North remembers well_

He smiled as he finished the song, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. Tywin would have surely struck him, or worse if he heard Jaime singing it, but this really did feel like a new start. _Sansa and Jaime_ , they would take Winterfell back together. They cared for each other and the North remembered the Starks. Jaime only hoped they would accept a Lannister at her side.

 _The North Remembers_. The North was calling her home. They didn’t hate her. They didn’t wish her dead. The North wanted her daughter back. She’d heard the phrase several times but never thought anything of it. Sansa always thought it was some ploy to get her killed, but it seems to be true. It didn’t make sense to Sansa that people were talking about her in the North, even less so that they sang about her. It was the biggest relief to know that they hadn’t forgotten about her. They hadn’t forgotten about little Sansa Stark, who had gone down to marry the crowned prince, but lost her whole family instead. 

When the song ended, Jaime’s lips were against her head. All her doubts shattered to pieces. He was still who Sansa thought Jaime was. He wasn’t with her out of duty. He cared for her and he wasn’t going anywhere. 

With the conclusion of the song, Jaime settled a little further into the bed, keeping Sansa held tight against him. Her body seemed less tense now, and her shoulders definitely sloped in relaxation. Sansa and Jaime were still in their nicer clothes as well and he kissed her brow again, closing his eyes for a moment. “We should get some rest, Sansa.” His leg still bothered him, but he was _emotionally_ exhausted too.

Jaime had felt good at the beginning of the night, seeing Sansa in her new, beautiful dress, but it had went downhill into being hurt and afraid that Sansa really didn’t care for him. Her strong reactions to his thoughts proved him otherwise though—no one was _that_ good of an actress.

It felt good to “start over” with her, and Jaime couldn’t wait until he could ride with Sansa to the beach again. “Oh! Actually…” Jaime began, opening his eyes again. He reached up, letting his fingertips ghost along Sansa’s bare shoulders. “I know things are about to get hectic to say the least—the royal wedding will be upon us next, my father is up our asses, and we need to start planning a return to Winterfell, but…can I make a request of you, Sansa? Something small…I think.” Whatever it was, Jaime’s eyes looked sad again as he brought it up.

Sansa opened her eyes for the first time since Jaime had pulled her into his arms. They didn’t sting anymore, but she was pretty sure they’d be red. “Anything,” she rasped, her voice rough from crying. She tilted her head up to see him better, bring their faces closer together. It made her flush, not knowing exactly where they were now. 

Sure, it felt like a new beginning, but she didn’t know what that meant otherwise. It could mean that they took a couple steps back from where they’d been, which was her fault. She tried to keep the guilt from eating at her, but at least she wasn’t hiding it from Jaime anymore. 

Her hand still rested on his chest. So she allowed her thumb to circle softly on it. However, she gauged his reaction, waiting to see if it was okay. She wanted to be close to him, but after hurting him… She didn’t feel as if she deserved any of this. Let alone anything more. 

As Sansa rubbed Jaime’s chest with her thumb, he swallowed hard. He made no effort to stop her, but instead looked down into her eyes. Their faces were close as he began to speak quietly, “I think I told you…when I was younger, my father would…punish me, if I didn’t read right during lessons. It never helped. It only made me hate reading…and my father, but that’s another story.”

At this, Jaime looked embarrassed and he swallowed a lump in his throat before continuing, “If I’m under any stress, the words seem to jumble on the page and they become unreadable. So, I guess what I’m saying is—since we can’t go to the beach for a bit, would you read to me instead?” Jaime hoped Sansa would say yes; he wanted to love reading again, and maybe with her it would be different.

Jaime’s face flushed with shame, but luckily, the room was dark. He reached up with his left hand to place it on top of Sansa’s to give her hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t feel pressured. It’d probably be boring for you.” Despite the fact Jaime had mostly calmed down, his hand trembled ever so slightly on Sansa’s. Clearly, he wasn’t as okay as he seemed either, but he was at least _trying_ to move past the mishaps of the evening.

Sansa’s eyes widened as he spoke. She’d wanted to share the books that Tyrion had been giving her. “Yes.” She could feel his hand trembling on hers. She glanced away, ashamed and stopped moving her thumb. “I’d be happy to.” She feel her heart breaking again as she looked at their hands. She licked her lips nervously. 

“I should probably change…” Her lip trembled as she pulled away from him and slipped off the bed. She grabbed her nightgown and went behind the screen, however, the moonlight made it easier to see the outline of her body. Sansa wrapped her arms around herself as she sat on the stool, hanging her head. A few tears formed in her eyes and fell onto her lap. It took her a few moments to collect herself before standing, unlacing her gown, and stepping into her nightgown. It had been a very emotional evening after a rather difficult dinner.

With her eyes as dry as she could get them, she came out from behind the screen with her hair completely down. She didn’t glance at Jaime as she set her bracelet down on her vanity. Her fingers touched the cool metal of the trout around her neck. Sansa couldn’t take it off. She fiddled with it as she turned back to the bed, slowly working her way up from staring at the sheets to meeting Jaime’s eyes. It was also the same scenario as their first morning together. Except now, she’d do anything for Jaime to hold her without reservation.  

While Sansa went to change, Jaime took his time removing his boots and shirt, tossing the garments aside to grab in the morning. He sunk further into the furs and linens, only wearing his pants as he waited for Sansa to come back to bed. It reminded him of the nights before he had left, when he was in better health. Sansa had asked Jaime to hold her for the whole night.

When Sansa did return, her hair was down, but looked as though she did not brush it out. It was unusual for her to come to bed without having brushed her hair, but Jaime didn’t dare say anything about it. It was of little importance right now. On the other hand, the look she gave him was eerily reminiscent of their wedding night, when Sansa had stared Jaime down, expecting the worst. What did she fear now? His rejection? If only she knew how unlikely that was.

Poor Sansa was also so fair-skinned any bit of emotion betrayed her and Jaime could tell she had been crying. He did not dare to mention this either. Instead, he pushed back the furs a little, patting the spot next to him, “Love? Lie down, please?” Jaime looked up into her eyes hopeful that she would give in and get into bed so that he may hold her again for the entire night. He swallowed hard after realizing what he had called her. Although Jaime meant every word, a part of him wished to take it back, praying it didn’t cause her discomfort.

Her jaw dropped as she exhaled. _Love_. Her fingers fiddled with her necklace, but she slid into the spot Jaime had indicated. She felt small looking up at him from where she had laid. Her heart was in her throat as she waited for Jaime. The word kept repeating in her mind. Did he really mean that? _Love_. He had called her  _Love_. The last time she’d heard that was her father. How his voice seemed to emulate exactly what the word had meant.  

Unable to wait, Sansa buried herself in Jaime’s side. Her face in the crook of his neck. This time she wasn’t holding him because she needed comfort, but because she was filled with relief. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and breathing him in. Her hand rested on his chest again, not moving but still there. Some tears fell from her eyes, but they were full of relief. 

Jaime didn’t hate her. She probably would have kissed him if she hadn’t thought twice about it. She had already impulsively thrown herself back into his arms. The small voice of doubt still wasn’t completely silenced, but it was diminished. _Love_. A bit nervously, Sansa lifted her head and met Jaime’s eyes. Her eyes shone, but a small smile rested on her lips. 

Once Sansa was settled in close to him, Jaime was quick to wrap an arm around her shoulders to draw her closer. He looked down into Sansa’s eyes when she lifted her head and studied them—they were sad still. Dark due to the lighting, irritated from crying, blue, and sad. Jaime hated to see that look and swallowed hard as he watched her.   
  
As he swallowed, the movement on his throat only drew attention to the healing wound there—surely, it would scar.

Sansa wouldn’t be sad anymore though, Jaime decided; not if he could help it, and he was prepared to do _anything_ for her. He wondered how he could be so lucky—to have a woman like Sansa Stark care for him, _the Kingslayer_. She actually _cried_ over him. Jaime reached up with one hand to rest it on her jaw as he leaned in to kiss her lips gently.

It made her stomach flutter as she kissed him back. Sansa’s own hand drifted up to the base of his neck. She could feel warmth blooming from his kiss washing over her.

When Jaime kissed her, his lips gently closed on her upper lip before tilting his head in to kiss her a little deeper. At this, Jaime allowed his eyes to fall closed as his fingertips grazed her jaw before falling away.  It was a tender kiss that seemed to say _I forgive you. I love you._ Even if Jaime could not say it aloud himself.

It wasn’t just a kiss to make Sansa stop crying or one that was full of pity, he wanted to kiss her. When the kiss broke, her eyes stayed closed with their lips still ghosting over the others. 

Sansa loved him. Whether she was ready to admit it to herself or not, let alone say it out loud, she did. If anything, this admission of her actions with Margaery had led her there. The thought of losing him after she just got him back was more painful than anything she’d ever felt. The pain of his rejection was greater than her fear of being left alone. She swallowed before exhaling heavily. She loved him and would do anything to make up for the actions that hurt him. 

Sansa rested her forehead against Jaime’s, tracing the muscles on his shoulders. This intimate moment had her relaxed and exhausted. Having her eyelids closed was relieving, but she didn’t want it to end, however, the yawn she was attempting to keep at bay was saying otherwise. 

Jaime would have loved to sit up with Sansa all night. Her soft hands tracing patterns on his skin and along his muscle lines. He would kiss her anywhere he could reach before pulling her into his lap and—Sansa was almost yawning. It was endearing to see her trying to fight sleep to stay awake with him, but the face she was making to try and battle the yawn was too funny.

He hoped she wouldn’t get too embarrassed, but Jaime could not help laughing, vaguely gesturing towards her face. “I’m sorry, Sansa, but—“ Jaime cut himself off and mimicked the face she was making with startling accuracy before laughing even harder. It was nice to see him like this, being carefree, happy even. Genuinely happy. Jaime tossed his head back against the pillow, laughing loudly as he hugged her waist. 

Her cheeks flushed as Jaime mimicked what Sansa’s face must have been doing, but she smiled, shaking her head and eventually laughing with him. His laugh was contagious and soon she was laying across his chest, laughing with him. After all her tears tonight, laughing just lightened the air between them. 

“Jaime,” Sansa laughed breathlessly as she leaned up on her elbow to look down at him. The way he laughed mesmerized her. How he shut his eyes tight because he was laughing so hard. How his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her into his side. She hadn’t noticed before, but there were slight dimples in his smile. How lucky was she that this…wonderful and handsome man wanted her? 

Licking her lips, Sansa shook her head at him. Her lips pursed in a futile attempt to hide her smile. “Jaime, gods you’re going to wake the whole castle.” She playfully nudged his cheek with her nose. 

It took him a few minutes to recover, and he reached up with one hand to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes. Jaime gave her a big smile and pulled her up close, burying his face into her neck. “Fine!” He said quietly, laughing softly into her neck before pulling away a little to rest his head back against the pillows again.

“I suppose we should get some sleep as opposed to waking the entire castle. Besides! We have a very long, difficult day of reading in the gardens, don’t we?” Jaime grinned at this and looked at Sansa lovingly. After laughing at Sansa fighting her yawn, Jaime was in much better spirits and it was contagious. “But yes, right, not waking the whole castle.”

Jaime was quiet for a moment and stared up at the ceiling. It seemed as though he was going to cooperate, but he only began to laugh again, glancing over at Sansa. “I’m sorry, I’m just entirely too amused that such a beautiful face can momentarily—never mind, I’ll go to sleep now, I swear it.” 

Sansa just shook her head, “You’re hopeless. Maybe this will help.” She softly captured his lips again with her own. She cupped Jaime’s cheek in her hand, gently tracing his cheek with her thumb. Sansa deepened the kiss for a moment before breaking away despite her reluctance. “Are you better now?” 

She gazed down at him, “I think I may have saved the royal family’s night of sleep.” Sansa chuckled lightly as she caressed Jaime’s cheek, kissing the end of his nose. The moon made it just visible, but his green eyes seemed lighter after his laughter. 

Jaime’s laughter had woken her up a bit more, but the weariness still lingered behind her eyes. By now it was well into the night and they would probably sleep late into the day. 

The kiss definitely helped to quiet Jaime and although he would have loved to stay awake with her longer, they had to rest, and so they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as for the song "The North Remembers Well." Some kind soul off Tumblr let me use their poem in our RP/fic. This was 2-ish years ago though and so I cannot find the original post/author! It is likely they deleted. But kudos to them for their beautiful song and letting me use it. 
> 
> Here it is in its entirety:
> 
> The cold winds rise  
> And night grows dark  
> As winter’s coming near
> 
> You lords of South  
> In castles strong  
> Shall know in time true fear
> 
> A coat of snow  
> And fangs of ice  
> A wolf has claws too
> 
> I am the North  
> Fierce and cold  
> And I won’t bow to you
> 
> And so she spoke,   
> And so she spoke  
> That girl from Winterfell
> 
> And now the snows   
> Fall o'er your bones  
> The North remembers well
> 
> And so she spoke,   
> And so she spoke  
> That girl from Winterfell 
> 
> And now the snows   
> Fall o'er your bones  
> The North remembers well


End file.
